Shriek

Throw this flesh into wind for to be tattered.

Flense & flay me; sprayed hot onto cold asphalt. Ribbon shred.

This isn't loving Summer, no. Springtime is
planting-
     gestation--
          gasping births---
                violence.
The invasion that is existing.

The Green of April is no gleaming emerald;
It is fury. It is ravenous hunger. It is manic desperation to be
It is the razor's edge of bleeding insistence.

Remove these bones. Festoon your thoughts with the sting and the ache. These verbs are command form. It is Spring.

That ripping. That fibrous, fluid tear. You hear it, yes?

Tilt me over and spill my ******* guts out.
Clouds of grey and bright red rain--squall of ichor. Knife wind.

Let us weep thunderstorms. Chagrin these Gods of Drought.

Howl

Scream for us both. Wail until the throat bleeds. Blood decanter.
Pour us out of you until the sidewalk hides from the cold.

Chilly today! Should've brought an anorak, eh?

Gale force wind. Tear me up. Spare no expense, accept no substitutes.
Leave no intact iota. Return me to my component parts. Atomize me.
Untangle us, we are a tragedy.
...And, after all, this is a slasher, yeah?

I mean. At least distract me. Ya know?

Her storms had been brewing for far too long.
Summer could only rain in June.
But her storms were on the brink of splashing down.
Humidity naturally caused her atmosphere to be hot annually.
June had run out of chances for Summer.
Summer was past the age of drizzling a small amount
on her own.

July came after June.
And was Summer’s new favorite month.
July made Summer so moist.
But she couldn’t let her storms come.  

At first.

Summer needed permission to rain in July.
But July was above 96 degrees on the first.
July made Summer feel warm and welcome.
July gave Summer a chance to relax properly.
Summer relaxed and let her storm rain all over July.
Her full clouds rumbled and clapped furiously on July.

Her waters made July as soaked as the Atlantic Ocean.
Summer couldn’t hold out for too long.
One release in July confirmed her need for a release
more frequently.
Summer was a hot-natured season.
And only wanted a month who could match her alluring ways.

-Mia J
7-11-2021

© 2021 Mia J

content:
the cool soft breeze caressing your hair
happiness:
the clear bright sunny sky
sadness:
the gentle rain dampening your skin
depression:
the pouring rain drenching your clothes
anger:
the scorching sun and whipping wind
rage:
the violent winds and tornado warnings

in Sp
ring
when song
birds

singjoy
fully,
dying
is

dull
;but
fat worms
****

**** thunder
are the
raindrops
f

alling&stain
ing the
side
walk,rin

sing off
the
col
orful chalk

May Day is upon us,
Summer is commenced,

And I find I am strung out on existence again.
Hazy daydreams and nostalgic motifs
play out on the threshold of waking awareness,

in this quiet interiority.
These recurring scenes

of abandoned planets, weathered landscapes
and transmuted ecology, fading lithographs
by fallen civilizations, collective memories
become the sole providence of those few
moments, thoughts, wandering lights.

Questions to ask when difficult emotions arise: Am I in a process?
Am I being too ******* myself? Am I taking things too seriously?

"He called philosophy down from the heavens,
And placed it in cities, and introduced it even in homes,
And drove it to inquire about life" (said Cicero, on Socrates).

Spring comes
And I find myself fond of fall.
Summer dawns
And I admire more winter.
Fall arrives
And I cherish spring newly.
Winter blossoms
And I appreciate summer more clearly.

The sun is setting,
On another windy day,

Cold and brittle,
Perfect for a *** roast!
We'd take to the grill,

But the weather had other plans.

Thankful for every passing cloud,

They reflect the sun so well.

dressed you for the rain
now this snow pelting pain
aww kid ! bad forecast