That look in your eye and the throbbing vein tells me you're crazy and
you'll find a reason to split my back while you search for the mind you lost.
You're going to break me if it's the last thing you do,
it's all you do.
Blood runs down the streets, in the sewage system, in the pipes, the water fountains, the duck pond.
The wind has again broken my cheap umbrella, turned it inside out
leaving me exposed to red that falls with thunder claps and
warnings from the sky that it's about to get a whole lot worse.
I skip through puddles like when I was a little girl afraid of everything, risking nothing.
Cars pass by and splash blood puddles on my face.
The shock of the heat renders me motionless, only for a moment,
then I walk again
trying to shake off what the sky keeps replacing.
The forecast for tomorrow; O negative with a chance of guilt and shame,
Dowel rods, throbbing veins and a long, long time under your reign.
October 3, 2016 - 7:13pm EST