"Sure, we were twins. We were the fucking Gibbons twins."
September faded in like fury at
an old wound,
crashed in as unstoppably as any tsunami,
and I found myself
-- perhaps unsurprisingly --
pulling thorns from my skin
spitting mouthfuls of venom into the sink
drowning with lungs full of oxygen.
emotions are fatal when
the jacaranda begin to blossom,
feelings all a-riot in pale purple
& summercreeping warmth.
(or so I must believe,
for sanity's sake if nothing more)
I can see as it it crashes in like thunder,
like cymbals, like rage & like inferno
it will last a gasping lifetime and set
all of us free, liberty like blood.
and then, somehow
I'm free of you,
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