[ the skies couldn't decide today ]

the skies couldn't decide today
if they should be bright or bitter grey

and sun showers mingle
with leering clouds,
that lick swollen lips at the sight of the young, dripping wet clumps of their descending relatives,
drop by drop of dying cloud...
incestuous, necrophillic skies.

and hail falls,
martyrs singing to the hum of a universe made holy
by a few wishes
and the dash dash sound of their crashing bodies
on the manmade crust covering living earth.

dash dash - against my cheek,
as I look to the skies
and see a little more than just a world without
meaning, even as these icy avenging angels
clash with the dull flesh of my existence.