save me this moment, o' sweet sunrise
let me taste the auburn essence of you
for I do not have many sunrises left
so I must savour this apricot view

save me this moment, o' sweet sunrise
for my time is coming to an end
the twilight tigress cares for no other
as she hurls her marmalade blend

save me this moment, o' sweet sunrise
for you have shown me light
and when I close my eyes for eternal darkness
I will think of your tangerine might

save me this moment, o' sweet sunrise
when my light is flickering weak
the final words taste sour on my lips
rest your golden kiss on my cheek

when you find a dead monk,
set him on fire.
the flames burn the color of the robes.
my color, the robes.
orange and red.
ascending from marina's Dark Zone
i look up and upon
the creatures of the deep -
softening the horror of their countenance.
i see black to blue, orange to red.
the Sun is a lynch pin
the monks are all on fire.
the Sun and Moon are a
vector and they are a
time piece.
when you find a dead monk, brother,
set him on fire.

the image of Cheeto Face can’t be unseen
glaring at us through the tube
spewing forth random worthlessness
infringing on all who watched
how do you undo such nonsense

Brian Hill - 2020 # 269

A brink of clouded moonlight
amongst oranges and blood-kissed red tucked away between headstones
with stories longing to tell

It takes seconds
For the fire to spread
And it took down
Small towns first
Ripping apart families
Names scattering, fleeing
And we all watch
The media speculated
All the loss history
Displaced heartbeats
And rationalize it
Then it hit cities
Seas of red and orange
Licking and devouring
Neighborhoods
And politicians wanted to blame
Everyone but themselves
When it expanded passed borders
We all went silent
Countries transformed into tattered pages
People swirling around, around
Astronauts said groups looked like storms
Tornados bouncing from land to land
As red slowly spread
Flickering orange
Spreading like a pair of wings
Encompassing the earth

Evil orange sun
In no way either inherently, underneath it all
all the smog, smoggy smoke and upheaved
Dusty dirt is a life giver a killer a creator a cop
A desire manifest
Evil today, been evil still will be evil
As long as its clouded this way
And if its clouded this way for much longer
I will seal its evil between my greenish eyes and the orange paste
Reflection where the two colors have no
Harmony only some kind of indifference which neither
transcends or pierces the other and there’s no
Way to tell if one knows the other exists
The light hits all corners of my home and I cannot
Escape this evil orange and when I close my eyes
They only adjust to black according to the former
Still evil and apocalyptic I am close
To doing nothing anymore
Till suddenly even nothing creeps back and presents
Its evil and purposeless self right
Before my illusory green and dumb eyes
I am profound
So profoundly struck by evil
That my fear bubble has burst and
Scattered its microscopic babies in every
Direction to outlive its competition my wit
And reality, non paranoic paranoid nerve endings and synapses and
Neurons I am scattered now completely overpowered by tiny
Tiny
Evils I’ve created that this orange has put inside of me
That I have grown and birthed I
Am now going to sit and go about my evil day
Eating my evil sandwich evil Thai food and
Washing my evil hair as long as the orange sun shines on me
Gods child

I woke up this morning in an orange dystopian world. An eerie darkness filled the room as a faint rusty glow bled through the blinds. Profound silence swept the streets and with it all forms of life vanished. My breath and the beat of my heart were the only things that reassured my existence. A viscosity that of molasses filled the air weighing down gravity itself, or at least it felt like it, as my body lethargically swam back towards the dark depths of the room. The curiosity within me sought external perspective so I dialed into the digital realm. What followed was disheartening to say the least. People from all over questioning if this was the end so nonchalantly, exposing the desolation that’s taken their lives hostage. I ask myself, how is it that we are so quick to **** ourselves? How is it that we’ve grown incredibly numb in a state of great psychological stress? I ask as the answer stares me in the face. Optical dopamine beaming into my cornea penetrating parts of me I thought only I had access too. Altered genetic code, altered state of mind, altered fabric of space and time, altered reality.

Still, I cling on to the utopian beliefs that veil my unwavering optimistic heart... and I pray.