You must feel the anger of the skies. Everyone does. Her ever-present glare reminds all below how we neglected her—amber never fading from twilight. Maybe she’s trying to kill you? Maybe we all are trying to kill ourselves? So, just take a breath, a single breath, deep and pure. No, seriously. Now…just take…a…breath. Let the acid burn truth. Now, walk away from this. Step off this porch, your uncle’s porch. Nothingness waits. No, let’s be clear, it’s your porch now, isn’t it? Throat dry, the sky wet. Acid in the rain bites more than the usual–tiny spikes prick the exposed skin of your shoulders. The clouds tinted red, too common…
beginnings transient / in knowledge prescient in / happenings premonitions / waypoints wayward we / these things journey to
a toddler cradled / no clasped / in desperate arms / his bicep quakes / he knows how / ill-suited his talent,
I / Am me. / MY / Toes, / Wiggle them / Out the window. / Shh...no one has to know.