Storm

I can hear skeletons all around me.
I like to imagine that the explosions are empty,

but spinal cords get popped like licorice ropes.
I always see the most painful faces.

I am not even interested in flowers anymore.
I associate the smell with corpses.

The type of body that calls you by your name
can only be identified by the red glow in the ether.

I remember when clouds looked like animals.
Now all of the animals just look like clouds.