the water surrounds you now,

as you wonder what to do.

you are swimming in your nightmares,

and your thoughts are turning blue.

a beaming

golden day,

haunting

and mocking.

a wordless

empty smile,

pretending

and lying.

i breathe through clenched teeth,

push the air through the gaps like

jagged vents in the earth's crust,

gaping volcanic pits

about boiling over with bile.

the thrum, the thunderous drum

the rapid quakes beat in the core,

shake and shake and shake—

a nonstop volatile shiver.

i shiver from the building pressure,

the pressing heat from an

unnatural disaster,

an eruption with no coverage,

no heed as the sun collapses

on the collapsed ground,

already beaten down and thrown out.

it's layers of unceremonious

disregard for the discarded,

layers of pressure, layers of heat.

the surface cracks and creaks,

but layers cement layers

and the magma hardens over

before it can know otherwise.

and i breathe, but it's all stale air.

haven't you heard the sounds

of a drowning man?

haunted by occurrences not had,

with bridge-less distance—

worsened by flood—

rising to meet him—

be his judge—

no crowd to see him—

day still young—

no face to save him—

what's done is done.

i used to play in the

pouring rain,

puddles muddy

where the water drained

at the corners of

dirt yards

not far from the

dying grass

that never lasts long

in my own front lawn,

even in the pouring rain.