yellow dust storms mark the days..
followed by pitch black nights..
and lots of heat…
never knew the night can be so hot
(oh the ways that line could be interpreted)
and oh so sadly
i mean the actual heat
which puts every skin cell on fire alert
when the power cuts off
the deathly silence
pierced by a truck horn played as a song
on the nearby highway
me alternating between wide awake and glazed out sleepy..
the mind running on ‘repeat’..
‘this is not right’