Going to get burned...

Can’t start a fire without a spark. The immortal words of Bruce Springsteen. Sure, he could have been speaking about camping and running out of flint. But this is the same dude who spoke about being on fire, so I’m going with the metaphor explanation. 


Can’t start a fire without a spark.  

So I've been watching Lucifer. Sadly, nothing like the graphic novel. Not a single vengeful tarot card come to life. Sigh.  The two leads spends most of their time bickering which would be fine if they had… 

…that thing, that fire, that sparkly-spark, that mumbowumboelectricwow thing that keeps you watching, keeps you wanting, more more more. 

But no spark no sizzle no nothing. Dampwet. 

Sparkage:

That look from across the table. Hellfire. 

Eyes gazing, eyes undressing, pupils dilating, those dark tunnels of the soul opening wider, taking you in, drawing you forward, enveloping you in a hust-filled, sluts-filled daze that shimmies up brazen, slitwet and heavy.

Hell's fire. 
It’s there. Kindling. Swelling. Sweeping. That look: nakednakednaked. Ached. There.
Between you. 
Through you. Through me. Flames. 

That look. Stripstripstrip. Rips. Trips you up. Right through to the beatdabeat of all that is me.

Can’t start a fire without a spark. 

You can try. Doesn't work though. Nothing to do with looks or interests or ticking boxes or common values. It’s just there. Burning.

Or it’s not. And then you have the smoke filled, gasping disappointment that is Lucifer.