you scooped out my insides
scraped down the sides
carved out the edges
you were thorough

you gave me a face
one i did not want
you shaped my expression
and i had no say
i felt my face turn
as a frown formed

once you were done scooping and shaping
you put torches in me
you lit them on fire
and you left them to burn

i was messy parts and melting wax
but i was fine.

i could be fixed
there were more seasons left for me
to have different faces
and to feel less empty

but you also scooped out my power
my autonomy
and at the beginning of each new season

i still feel the messy parts
and melting wax
welling up inside

*******.

the sky in california is a different shade of blue
the sort that whispers in your ear
and tells you to rest
the sort of sky that beckons you
to sleep
the marijuana breeze a blanket over your body

the sky speaks to us all
to the crack addled maniac wailing in the riverbed
to the almond growers laughing in the fields
to the housewives caking their faces to cover bruises left by their lovers
to the ******* kids speeding on the freeways

in early autumn when the heat makes children cry
and the forests fall to fire and wind
the sky tells you to close your eyes
and wait

in winter when the sky is more gray than blue
and the ocean thrashes with wild anxiety
the sky tells you to wait

and in the spring when the rains finally come
and the hills burst with green
the sky tells you to wait

but in the summer when the sun never goes down
and the roller rink never closes
the sky sings to you
and tells you to wake up