Love in low, blue lights

if you were the weather, you'd be lightning—-low to the ground and a sudden, blood-curdling jolt

Do you sense the crammed music inside the fleeting sunrise? Does it scream like the way you want me to feel your anger?

I can't taste anthing but a drought, an extended starvation mixed with murky, muddled blue lights, hanging low, low, low and it tastes like still water, ancient below an inactive volcano

Your words starved me, a greedy drain from a force I didn't see until after I heard it, like lighting, hitting my nervous system, tumbling like a unstable set of blocks.