a fire escape grows on my back

& i tell you to take it--
i tell you to hold onto the railing 
& savor the touch of cool black metal.
in bed i often consider fire.
tonight i'm thinking of how flammable
rubbing alcohol is & how easily 
i could write my name in it across my wall
by using a paint brush
dipped in the bottle.
touch a lighter to the letters.
i don't actually think i could step in front
of a moving train but i stand nearby
in the rubble & watch several pass
until i go back inside. you shouldn't 
let yourself in. you shouldn't use the key
underneath my tongue. you should stay home
where there are windows in every room.
when i say i don't love myself i mean 
i eat the pennies i find on the sidewalk.
when i say i need to move somewhere far away 
i mean that i want you to find 
other boys with differently shaped imaginations.
i don't imagine you with fire
but i imagine you covered in ivy.
i see you as a knot. there is water
coming out of all my cuts
& most times i wake up not remembering
how they got here. how did you let me 
be so cruel to myself. weren't you there
with a bucket full of milk &
a bowl of red plastic apples.
when i say take the the fire escape
i mean get out. i mean there will be 
better nights. i mean there will be 
better boys who you won't ever have to
have an evacuation plan for.
have i told you about each vertebrae? 
have i told you that if someone goes wrong
to call the moon on her cellphone
& tell her that her son is acting irrationally.
yes, you please put me back together.
demand more bedrooms. demand curtains
hanging from the corners of my mouth.
i want to be your straw doll--
your bowl of perpetual burning.
you pick my hair out 
like scraggly dead grass.
i wanted to sleep last night but
i thought & thought & thought myself 
onto the back porch.
onto a frame of sky. onto the throat
of a match. there is gasoline
in the air & it reminds me of stopping
on the side of the highway
& finding refuge in pockmarked bathrooms.
i call a phone number i found on the wall.
it's you. you're the phone number 
on the wall. you love me harshly.
you fall asleep. i wake you up
& tell you to hurry--
that i can feel my bones 
begging to ignite--
that i know you'll burn easily--
a scrap paper--
climb away down my back
& into the warm shimmering night.