An orange storm cloud
Rises proudly from the horizon
A rain that burns the eyes
The bad god I need
Its altar pierces my chest
“Bow,” it says
My knees buckle beneath the weight of thunder
“Worship,” it demands
I lift my hand skyward and pray
“Live–”
I swallow each protest
every desperate plea for rest
Like hot iron in the throat
Fire in my trembling heart

Fossilize my heart
in a sticky Southern summer
Shiver and sweat an uncertain future
103 degrees (With heat index?)

I can’t tell if it’s my fever
or if the hills are undulating
Freeing themselves of wrinkles
like hanging bedsheets

As they sway, I brace myself
Close my eyes to the dance
Still each painful breath,
seal every beat in amber

In the mirror, I watch my eyelids flicker like a projector, a frame by frame film nested with worry, with exhaustion. I am a rusted suit of armor. Rattling the chest plate, my heart drums within from a distance. If it echoes, it’s still beating. If it echoes, it’s still beating.

I've got the rip down just right
The soft tear, grated misnomer
Perforated here in my middle
Like I was meant to come apart
Out of view
Hot with friction
Hot with longing
Kinetic energy
Shredding
Dividing
The low sound of cutting construction paper
Thick with each blade passing
A sharp kiss
Maybe
Gripping like this
The right tool for suicide in the wrong hands
I have hands like those
******* I'm dissolving in a tear drop
It never left the eye
The sting feels like drowning
Waterless
and
in pieces