Summer Storms

I got nothing to say today

I’ve had nothing to say for a while

The brain has been hibernating

While the body meanders through the usual processes

Today is no different

When the salty sea tastes flat

And the tropical sun feels tepid

An automated machine, not my own but with

The will of others pushing the body into action

The brainfog has been lifting but still inundates the twisted avenues that are the folds of the brain trying to find its destination

Smoky Mountain blues, turning red as

My division of labor reaches zero

In the morning, I am the working class

The afternoon, a wannabe writer

The evening, an alcoholic

At night, a repentant sinner and Jesus’ greatest disciple

In la madrugada, la madrugada though

Immanence emanates and converges

With the transcendence of a silent city

In this fifth season between summer and autumn

Where the summer storms, the destruction of spring

Are long gone and

Autumn’s empty promises of aesthetics

Have yet to inculcate the gullible

Total becoming is finally manifest

Language and order are marked absent

Contingent upon our chaos, they’ve been lulled

To sleep

Enfin, le repose

A week passed and still no words passed my lips

The tongue wary of the mouth’s roof

Every roofer’s quote for repairs too high

So it got lost in those same inundated avenues

And couldn’t find the exit

“If we can’t leave as speech, we’ll leave as characters”

Rearranged, the process begins anew

The daily walk through the five seasons

As the self breaks down once again

Just to be repackaged and rebranded

At least that was the plan,

Until the hurricane blew the roof off

Now the sun and the rain reign

As Gods over this newfound vulnerability

Blessed be the elements

From whom we’ve been removed

For if they can kill us

Then surely, they are higher powers

And these hurricanes attack

Through summer and autumn

Attaching destruction to aesthetics

To a new beginning