A Wicked Red

The rainwater has turned heavy,

and a glowering green

gathering of pixels

glistens as it glides above

the burning, soon cavernous rooftops.

People gather in crowds,

confused, mouths agape

and capturing cancers, multiplying

mutations, signing the contracts

for their silences and deaths.

Keep it quiet,

silent bodies in rows within

lead-lined concrete coffins.

When the letter arrives,

long-awaited, ripped open, the

envelope attacked and torn, it

only tells you that

money is better off as expenses

(one hair salon visit, three five star meals,

a new car and concert tickets)

than as life-saving surgery,

face turned a clinical white

hands trembling as the future

becomes clear.

We have become an ouroboros.

I grit my teeth — while they last -

while my body rots into slowly separating fragments,

while it is melted by unbreathable air,

dried out and burning

the rain comprised of acids

dancing through the night sky

a gorgeous cascade, a gentle soundscape

hiding death behind its soft visage

the velvet stained

a wicked red,

muffled screams

beneath the Earth

craving the concrete.