i find myself tearing up
allergies, or memories,
or fear of future heat
i feel sorry under the sun
something feels... oh so wrong
i feel so much like me
the familiar scent of seasons
golden glow, garden of eden
i cherish my chunk of nature
for forests seem only to cheapen
as time ticks and temperatures steepen
i’m forgetting it’s February,
and just the start of the weekend!
reality’s worthless unless your uneven
spending’ benders in bonita springs,
in a once in a generation tsunami season
full send fucking everything
and get eaten up by the ocean, for no reason.