cracked weathered
mother nature cannot
be fought with even the
most powerful of savles
or ointments. she
will until the
very end
be waiting in the morning
never with a smile, no
always poised, waiting for
that first grimace of
the day
upon realization that
yes, you're in the very, one
and only place you'll ever
see.
and so your hot,
dry gateway to the
soul stretches, until
the tension finally erupts
to set off a disappointing taste
of bitter metal, one thicker
than water i will venture,
or at least ever so
very slightly
