my sunrises are cold and red
my sunsets a bleak crimson
it hurts to breathe
it's hard to see
is it my judgement or my horizon that's clouded?
with all this ash
and these storm-charged skies
is it fog
or is it smoke
and does it matter to this weak heart?
the golden valley
now charred
is a reminder that nothing is permanent
but i want to hold on to these green branches
my eyes burn
my throat aches
are these tears or intoxication?
and am i weeping
or the earth?
