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.