it was July 30th on a Thursday when the firestorm started
the magnificence of the evening sky sparked by a swell of fuchsia
blackened and scarred and holding my stomach
the smoldering remains of what used to be myself
my enemies twisted and gnarled
stalactite looking teeth
grinning at me
a hurricane of mockingbirds
that won't shut the fuck up
hovered perpetually and ominously
always pecking at us
while we screamed, "Spare the Air!"
innocent voices chortle
we neglected this electrical storm
my mind too muddled and malfunctioning
Emotional manipulation and mismanagement
not enough fists to smack against my skull!
sprawling across vulnerable territory with their claw like hands
and raping demons
while he contentedly cleared the brush glutted with his love?
Plug a wasps nest, bitch!
I said, threatening to loop their assholes on a string
A spark flew into the dry grass, shit
their fires always set by lightning strikes
preternatural
and my dumbass stuck standing beneath a tree!
staring at the branch falling, subdued and strange
surviving with just some bruises
still the air feels heavy as i skulk away
Drifting into everything, i keep my head down
feeling guilty about things i haven't thought about in years!
These were planned rolling blackouts
how could i be so stupid
(my only defense was him, while we held each other
and he glowed in the dark, filled only with wishes)
waking to find wildfires nullified by his love
we exist only in the blackouts of cruel irony
in the comfortable capacity of close friends
our cacophony of trembling exhalations
all our lungs smoke-choked but we can't stop laughing
"this is fine!" i screamed out the doorway,
though silently praying they'd just leave me alone
Swarmed by an inferno, trying to drink up
while all the vineyards around me continue to swell
its ok
i have bolstered my crew with intimate firefighters
all characterized by a sense of wild fragility
bullshit continuing to cascade in a cavalcade
our chaotic fabulistic response to this virus
Is it not enough to shout at deaf ears, fucking bastards!
as smoke billows out of my windows
The crescent moon hung low and orange
Masks pulled down over our chins
(flame resistant head gear)
As we sat in our homes that we watched burn
Still he whispered he loved me
And that was all i needed
while the flames charred up my flesh
blushing and grinning like a fool as i burned to
death
YOU ARE READING
always raining - Poetry
Poesíamy heart has been raining into my soul ever since we met... ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʀᴀɪɴᴅʀᴏᴘꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅʀɪꜰᴛ ....ꜱᴏ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʀᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ ǝuoɓ ǝɹ,ʎǝɥʇ ǝɹoɟǝq ɯǝɥʇ ɥɔʇɐɔ os˙˙˙˙ ʇɟıɹp llıʍ sdoɹpuıɐɹ ǝʞıl sʇɥɓnoɥʇ ǝsǝɥʇ