if i'm the smoke in the middle
of the night then you're the fire
that's daring to breathe me into the
stars. and if i'm the steam fogging
up the windows, then you're
the ravaging fingers on sweat-
slicked flesh that's birthing it.
because neither of us are sweet
summer lullabies or gentle may
showers. no, we're nail-bitten
hips and saltwater-lips knocking
over vases and shoving devil-wing
shoulders into the wall. we're
pillaging hunger and insatiable greed,
sinning our way through poetic silence.
we're taking what we want and be
damned what stands in the way.
we're a wildfire tearing down
the forest, a hurricane ripping
the roofs off of the greater
metropolitan area. we're an
unnatural disaster, colliding in
an explosion of sparks and metal.
we're igniting the world until it burns
to the ground, we're wringing out the
ocean. we're standing in the middle
of the dust-hazed war zone we've
created and all we can notice is heat.