All my life I've done everything backwards
Living from the future to the past
going from the inside to the out-
and jumping in the big holes last.
Heed the somber wisdom of old
or submit to the rush of youth.
Serpents taste freshest
when eaten alive,
and served with Witch's juice.
The sun is too harsh for mine eyes
The moon so benevolently snide.
But it's the sun I lack,
the orb of living electric,
overtaken by the waves, I know
the moon is a blanketed tide.
and this oppressive heat
wed to the noxious carbon smog
rollicking from concrete streets
won't go away.
This scalding, simmering, smoldering heat
is infusing itself
into my veins.
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