I'm your paradise surrounded by a drought.
Only you are mesmerized in the sunlight,
Unfortunately for you, you are about to die.
I can't save you,
Because I am a figment of your imagination.
I am the desert in disguise.
Dehydrating you with my lies.

baking in the mojave
no rivers here like in the tangles back east
crows—and perhaps other animals can on occasion
be heard in a tussle
squeamish feelings settle in the crater of a
stomach half-empty
Last night I woke up aware
of the snakes that bite and scorpions that pinch
but not how truly they exist
I’ve never felt the sun sear my skin so
I hope to fry and lock in all my juices
like my brother’s rich cooking
oh how I dream of a brother by my side
and the more dreary and sweaty I become
the more I begin to see one
a dark, hulking man, as sullen as I
sulking as I do; beneath a new sun

Fresh glass sits aside
never to be drank
but hides in a darkened space
to waste the fresh liquid it takes.
Stale in the morning
without warning
a child cries for help,
dehydration causes frustration
for those who wastes it's prize.