acrophobia
rain bites skin
chills bones
among warm speckled rays
thunder hems & haws clears its throat of sky
lilac whiffs with languid wind and that smell
when rain first tames the dust brings me
to who I am (in this cage of dying skin)
the old man rambled can’t work in the lightening
I had to agree it was a yellow afternoon
and there is no place better to stand
than where your feet meet the ground
I wouldn’t go up there either
not if I had a say
not now probably never
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