I've always been cold until I visited the Far East and you pranced into my life like a wild gazelle in the grasslands. I've always been cold until you laid your head on my chest while you fell asleep and the aroma of your cocoa brown hair intoxicated me to the point of snores and the most pleasant dreams I've ever had. I've always been cold until you wrapped your arm around my stomach and I could feel your veins circulating on the contours of my abdomen. I've always been cold until you looked at me with your macchiato eyes and my state of matter went from solid to liquid as I tried to construct myself back together like an artist sculpting an ice statue outside in the middle of May in Mexico. I've always been cold until your kiss electrified my lips like an underwater eel and I felt 12,000 watts circulate my body bringing to attention every cell that flows within my valves. I've always been cold like an iceberg near the Antarctic and nothing's ever changed that. Nothing except for you. Thank you for being my fireplace in the middle of an ice cold winter. Thank you for being my heat.
Ever so boiling!
Too hot to handle!
I can't stand this heat!
I need a drink of water!
Something nice and cool!
Something ice cold!
© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
The heat is coming down
Like a car playing chicken
Except all you can do is stand there and get hit
Over and over again
Until it merges with your skin, your body
It stays with you like a second skin
Like some sort of sickness
Water is your pain reliever
Air conditioning is but a temporary cure
Because as soon as you leave
The heat is right outside
Waiting for you.
I can smell the heat of the day
The off gassing of materials
The decomposition of grass
I smell the earth drying in the bake
of this southern sky.
I wonder is love
this volcanic eruption
of sensation in my lungs?
Butterflies falling to the pits
flying opposite of alive
drowning in my lava
so pretty when they die.
A passionate flame is born
sweeping them under like a raging storm
fire burning throughout my skin
sending ecstasy and shock waves within
if this is love, sweet God in Heaven
where has it been?
the air is so thick that even your thoughts melt away
in the Southern heat. sweat starts pouring until your
clothes start clinging to you like an unwanted lover. heat and sweat seperates the true Southerners from the wannabe's,
who don't truly love a place even when it's too damn hot.