forever better
alone with production
forever better
attending to poetic tendencies

the skies cry as I write
smoke so thick that it puts fog in the corner
heavy winds and planes rushing overhead
lightning with no trace of thunder
the wind rumbles louder
sequencing with my stomach
as I ache for inspiration in every toxic breath
that follows after the fire spreads

I smoke with the earth
as my lungs bleed
together with my heart