I post this again...it's almost Halloween month. It's almost SMILEYS' GRAVE time.
 In memory of a short story that has found new life in SUICIDE and an 
even better screenplay that waits in an endless limbo.  I love you COLOR
 OF FLAME.   You are me.  You are my heart.  You are my demise.  You are
 my writer's lost soul.
Watch the video: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiTmnWwQpUE
 From the screenplay COLOR OF FLAME
 COLOR OF FLAME
 It takes buckets of bones
 And pails of blood
 And lots of love
 Cause I'd love to love 
 To live for someone 
 And be forever giving. 
 But I can't do it alone 
 With just my bones...
 It takes armloads of hearts
 And caverns of touch
 And crypts of warmth
 A dreamtime of warmth
 To care for someone
 And be one of the living.
 But I can't make one from no one
 With just my bones...
 Don't you see
 The color of flame
 Is the color of my heart.
 Don’t you see
 The color flame in my abyss
 Of emptiness.
 Can’t you see
 The color of flame
 Is the color of my graying ash. 
 But I can’t spark flesh into being 
 With just my bones...
  
 I beg for mausoleums of breath
 And catacombs of flesh.
 With just my bones
 I yearn for vaults of obsession
 Boundless aeons of passion…
 With just my bones
 I rage enraptured, screaming. 
 Screaming dire
 For the burn of your lips
 Living flesh on fire ––
 Melt my touch into yours
 Meld your soul into mine,
 Our molten core of desire
 Endless everything on fire.
 But I can’t do it alone
 With just my bones.
 The color of my heart
 A lost and dying pyre.
 With just my bones
 A dark and smoldering mire,
 Forever whispering
 Love me...
 Love me...
 Love me...
 Poetry: C.A. Broadstone