This heat
Feels like
A bowl of hot ramen
Dropped from fifty feet
Above you.
Drenching the world,
In hot, spicy, soupy
Juice, where nobody could
Do
Anything.
It feels like
A bowl of warm
Freshly baked
Bread, still steaming
Except you are
In the oven
Screaming.
Nowhere to run
Away from the
Unceasing, unyielding
Nasty, uncaring
Sun
Not even for a moment, none
Hiding in fear
Away from the outdoor
In containers, airtight
Bidding, waiting, counting minutes
Until it's night
To finally come
Outside.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Tell me what you think. I'll read, promise.