I wonder if like a storm you are
unaware of the damage you inflict.
Flooding these walls with screams,
shattering the fragility of our home.

I assume you are too caught up
within your own struggles to break free.
The wrath of your thoughts and those
calculating fingers rake your flesh.

Etching violent artistry's to your soulless
voids. Little needles which pin-***** at
the dark corners of your mind; awakening
the dormant cruelty sheltered within.

It is only through the cusp of night that
apologies emerge as you feign delicacy.
Your liquid skies fade to hellish hues as
you tell me not to lust after hurricanes.

The leaves fall off the vine
crinkled and brown
and so very dry
that they crunch under footsteps
of strangers walking together.

Those trees over there are thin
the branches are so brittle
and the grass beneath has died off
for there's no shade
and the sun is too hot.

And the crater in the ground
was once a lake
but those streams dried up
leaving stones and debris
to rest in the dust.

Those strangers' bodies scream for water
that no longer exists
with trembling hands
they grab hold
as the wasteland claims another.

With one less person
they walk away from the sun
that beats on their heads
that hang so low
from this wicked, cruel, abuse.

as the sun rose
in the April of love
we let light become
a fountain of dayrise
and love set flame
in the grasses laid
in the April of love
we let kiss be free
slow down the sun
honeyed in the grass
with blossom and bee
and foliage season
held us in burn of green
in the April of love
christen of showers
warmest hearts alight
eyes of lit candles
flowers wild in fire
we let to love kindled