The pyromaniac within yours truly
beckons sacrificial ritual
mine burning (man's)
sacred plastic bags
of rubbish (comprised of: hairs combed,
ditto trimmed from dead head,
filthy lucre - ha, phlegm
wrapped in tissue paper,
snips and snails,
and puppy dogs' tails),
awaiting flame thence said materials
reincarnated into sooty ash

no matter such fiery rhetoric
would be deemed
illogical or brash,
cuz I would sooner serve as a crash
test dummy while riding bareback
with spicy specie missus dash
(subsequently witnessing Chiroptera
bat out of hell bat an eyelash
at weird ways of wordsmith)
subsequently prompting me
a praetorian guard reincarnate,

whose coat of shining armor
after radiant dancing sunbeams
beating down ferociously
upon the terra firma indicating
resplendent morning has broken
to blindingly flash
belying onerous task
setting sharp teeth into
bite size meaty morsel that gnash,
whereby said raw bits of comestibles
masticated into hash.

Sheesh, yours truly the fire starter
his fiery soul he would willingly barter
with the devil, who might be repulsed
all the way to kingdom come
courtesy one powerful farter,
whose name alone sends shivers,
especially snaking down
the spines of Thamnophis.

Maybe being a garbage patch kid,
the progeny of renown Chemist
B.B. Harris and to slightly lesser extent
late culinary cuisine queen Harmit Harms
Kuritsky – (both parents deceased)
as well as a long haired
pencil necked geek
even going Halloweening once
as chief garbage taster
helps explain this fixation
retaining said plastic bags of trash,
which mode of disposal
would ideally be courtesy kindling tinder.

This combustible transunion link analogous
to their representative first electric kool aid
basic laboratory litmus test date), which
took place without a hitch, and telepathically
encouraged begetting retinue of revered
sons and daughters, whose ken hopefully
burned with passion KRISPR incubated,
inculcated, and incurred genetic outlook
ideally transmitted to prolific brood
of begotten babes.

This kid felt embers crackling, popping,
and snapping with yen that burned from
within and without buns sin burner of this
cingular earthlinked son.

Pardon me while I attend
to formidable task
to buzzfeed incinerator,
which cries out like a hungry caterpillar
a rumbling easily mistaken
for the Alaskan bull worm.