It’s something like a tornado

the way the universe tends to

turn. what’s a girl to do, one thinks

as she sprays her life with gaso/

line and lights a match just to watch

it’s birth; once, twice, thrice and again.

she does nothing more than giggle,

make popcorn and watch the world burn.

“clear skies ahead in the eyes

of the dead,” she sighs wiping

tears from her cheeks and i relate

because i know the struggle to

keep breathing. the creature creeping;

it’s not real, but it is. i don’t

comprehend how it is that they

cannot see the storm building, or

hear the thunders roar.  it never

stops to stupefy, boggle the

mind; bleating sleeping sheep in fear

afraid of a silly spirit.

watch the way they mill about

frantic when the winds begin to

whip chaos into a frenzy.

pray to the almighty absent

for sanctuary if it helps

i can’t grasp the concept of it

i don’t understand the way you prey.



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