This is a rather awesome quickie, if i do say so myself. Which i do, so it is, and yes, the matches and gunpowder can be substituted with quite a few things, fun things, like cyanide and toothpaste, sandals and a tight rope, lighters and WD40, women with guns and their period, or even, (A seizure medication a friend of mine takes..) carbomezapine and grapefruit. I enjoyed reading this piece and leaving the comment. That must mean it's inspiring. Keep up the rockin' job, eh? Peace. -rue
Sorry but this really made me think of Grey's Anatomy. Seen it yesterday and it's an episode where someone with a head shot is brought in who says it just happend like that when he was cleaning his weapon. He was not at all carefull. Back to your poem. It's short but interesting. What is this about? About a pyromane not being careful, about someone with suicidal ideas? Or is it more metaphorical, someone who is at the point of doing something stupid? Interesting.. tell me what it's about.