always raining - Poetry

putting out fires

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