My passion for all that I read is such
that I burn through each page
with the light-running touch
of voracious eyes, consuming gaze
by the time I turn each,
it's been set ablaze
by a slow-building heat
a reaction stirred
by a piercing glare
that lays bare each word,
as each line flushes hot
as each paragraph curls
and it smokes, and it blacks
and the flames unfurl
tongues of red licking up,
as my eyes lick through, to
the next page in front
conflagration pursues
I race not to escape!
but to quench, and to slake
all heedless of flames
I have set in my wake
I race through to the end
in an all-consumed lust
and my bookcase holds
covers, and ashes,
and dust
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