A Parched Body

Without remorse, but a plea to survive,

My throat parched, now raw to your element.

Yearn for possibilities to revive;

Body dead to this forceful regiment.

Blood boils, skin melts as brain cooks on display,

Tongue held captive to the roof of my mouth.

Lips, a desert land with cracks flake away;

Satan’s sauna’s call echoes from the south .

The night, alas, begins to close on in;

The remorseful sun bows its head and leaves.

For the harsh summer day is faltering ;

Fireflies glow when the pale crescent moon beams.

As long as there is a drop of water,

Life will continue to runneth over.