You are the weather of my soul
My fingers are trembling ships racing
Trying to reach an island
Where the seabirds play
In the light of a never ending sunset
Why now,
Are the storms raging silent?!
That I can see the tumultuous lightning
And feel the rain as it pounds onto my skin
But the gutteral growl of thunder
The instinct imparted from the crackling sky does die
And my ears listen to the sound of the beginning
My greatest fear
Silence
When there was nothing at all
And nothing again
In the end

You are the weather of my soul
The way a humid ninety-degree day invites the rain
And my fingers are song birds flying
Trying to reach the nest
A place to call home
My songbird fingers
Your skin
I can feel your pain
Still
I can't hear your voice
Silence is my greatest fear

Oh, my jaded love
My sunshine day
My storm
Encompassing me
My flood
Silence is my greatest fear
So talk to me!
Even if what is said
Is nothing I want to hear
You are nothing more than everything
The weather of my soul
My love
And even if its raining stinging drops of violent pain
Where you are
I want to hear it

I saw war machines between the clouds
and while the sky was burning
people on the ground were living carelessly,
ignoring the Apocalypse above.

I saw a madman hysterically laughing and dancing
amongst  people with bleeding smiles
and I, as one of them,
was wandering by the river,
watching, listening,
not knowing if anything was real.

(A stranger took a picture of me
and I felt pretty.)

Then finding myself in the middle of nowhere
I saw demons burning everything I owned
—a poem, a dress, and your picture—
My legs frightened running and running and running
until my body touched the ground.
Breathless, suffocating,
I knew then
that it was the end.

My greatest
fear is that
eventually
I'll only
be a hollow shell

After over
exposure
through these
words

And cursed
to conjure
deep mysteries
while searching
for a place
in this
world