Beneath my skin, a raging fire
Pulsating, throbbing within me
A suffocating heat, a blistering pyre
Don't touch me, you will get burned
But there is nothing I want more
Than to place your hands upon my heart
To thaw and melt
The ice which binds them.

The Vow

my brain will not be silent
my heart won’t skip a beat
the world is way to violent
the sun has lost its heat
what is going to take place
after it all is said and done
we need to succeed and embrace
and know that humans have won
we all retain the power
to stop this mayhem now
it will take a worldly shower
it will take mankind's vow....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 172

After the rain, the heat breaks and dissipates,
and the air sits lightly on my skin.
There is space for us to breathe.

For some time, our nostrils wistfully recall the
pavement's sweltering heat as fat droplets
hurled themselves to destruction.

I am reminded
by my cracked lips,
And the way my mouth
tastes like mouth,
How hot it is in here.
That,
left to my own devices,
I might just burn myself up.

I am reminded
by dragon breaths
Blowing softly
on my forehead
How warm you are out there
That,
left to my own devices,
I could bake myself into all that glow.

And never know
Why I'm still so cold.

Knees scorched and my heart is warm.
Reminiscing days of ocean blue.
Instead I sit in my armour.
Protecting the fierceness of winter breeze.
Hot and cold tend to possess this intensity.
Red licks upon cedars wood, reminding me of the significant vessel I occupy, is capable of feeling too.
There is a certain life to a flame, that I find difficult to express, so instead I will exist in this body.
Reminiscing.

it’s summer and i am transcending my body.

by day my sweat falls
into the earth with the heat-pressed force
of raindrops of a monsoon.

by night my blood rises
into the moon with the strained hum
of a tide of mosquitoes.

my body it’s summer and transcending i am.

Love sits like a rock, ticks like a clock,
drops like a thermonuclear warhead.
Never ending, resists bending, snaps
back like a palm tree after a beach storm.
Unfazed by summer's heat, talks on a beat,
grand standing through each of our eyes.

What are the best lunch options under
another heatwave day?

Look, where that little butterfly landed at?
A bow of crispy chips and half plate of salad

Whispers whispers,
Was she keep nagging:
‘Check, Check please
Why Mr. cheese was not with there at my salad ?

And if cucumbers and olives could talk and were given a face,

it would be butterfly companion in this fall from grace,
And let’s take a short lunch flight in the shadow corner,
avoiding the heat and light.