Latent heat like magma in the mantle
Beneath the crust of my complexion
My pa**ion scorches souls, sears skins, scolding simpletons
My flare has yet to ignite the Reichstag
But if my pa**ion was the gasoline
You would die trying to ingest my zest
Spicier than hot wings, chakalaka or atchar
I can turn your views into ash
I can burn not just marshmallows
I can roast many motherboards as I flood through the web
Your intellect may a**a**inate me
But am I withered away like ash?
Did you look at "my corpse"
As you took "my body" to the mortuary
When he cleansed "my body", did he see the clothes "I" wore?
When you "buried me", was I 6 feet under?
My pa**ion is energy for the ma**es
It can be replicated
But pa**ion is pa**ion
In all elements of this periodical table
called life
Pa**ion is the zest of living
We can treat it like its life or d**h
Pa**ion is the loudest microphone
in the speakers of our mouths
Pa**ion is the brightest flame in our firewood
of our bellies
All it needs is a lighter
All it needs is the speaker
Can YOU feel my core?