It is TOO ...damn...hot.
Steam rises, and caterpillars
across smudgy window panes.
My lungs, pant,
for breath
through an open mouth
and every exhalation,
feels...scalding
to softly sun-kissed, lips.
The urge to streak, clean
warm, and smoky glass
with slender finger-marks
beats, in my throat,
like coppery monarch wings.
...If I could...
I'd strip off, my skins,
with the remainder, of my clothes,
and dive, headfirst
into a frigid current,
of chilled lemonade.
I'd float, like a dense raft, of bones,
in a sour sea;
clinging to a lemon wedge,
as I drift gently, amongst pink rivulets.
I'd play off, my own body
like a steelpan,
while lounging, in corpse pose.
I'd clink,
as musically, as ice cubes,
in a frosty glass,
every time a wave, struck my rattling form.
But, alas, I am gorilla-glued,
into a sweat-rimed meat suit.
Bare feet, plant themselves,
into burning asphalt.
Ghost white soles,
cook, and sizzle,
like fatty bacon,
on the HOT...summer...sidewalk.
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 7:22 AM UTC
It is TOO ...damn...hot.
Steam rises, and caterpillars
across smudgy window panes.
My lungs, pant,
for breath
through an open mouth
and every exhalation,
feels...scalding
to softly sun-kissed, lips.
The urge to streak, clean
warm, and smoky glass
with slender finger-marks
beats, in my throat,
like coppery monarch wings.
...If I could...
I'd strip off, my skins,
with the remainder, of my clothes,
and dive, headfirst
into a frigid current,
of chilled lemonade.
I'd float, like a dense raft, of bones,
in a sour sea;
clinging to a lemon wedge,
as I drift gently, amongst pink rivulets.
I'd play off, my own body
like a steelpan,
while lounging, in corpse pose.
I'd clink,
as musically, as ice cubes,
in a frosty glass,
every time a wave, struck my rattling form.
But, alas, I am gorilla-glued,
into a sweat-rimed meat suit.
Bare feet, plant themselves,
into burning asphalt.
Ghost white soles,
cook, and sizzle,
like fatty bacon,
on the HOT...summer...sidewalk.
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