clouds take many shapes.
visible morning breaths,
and savior of death.
casting a cool sheet of shade.
between hide and firework-like rays.
giving comfort in relief,
sprinkles leave no scars.
shallow and brief,
puddles mean no harm.
but when droplets soar down like meteors,
rushing over pores to saturate ground.
gathering into savage herds.
liquid knows no bounds.
what once came down is now rising up.
swiftly sweeping away time with abrupt.
to creeks, ponds, and lakes
swelling into rivers of destruction.
replacing gasps of air with burning suffocation.
because when lungs are filled,
screams are altered into silence.
it's proven clouds take many shapes,
and one of them is violence.

© LW

the bass and treble,
somehow aren't audible,
but their weight is felt.
sending asphyxiation to my nervous system.

I can't pinpoint the second, minute, or hour
I sunk with that lullaby,
but I can taste the fading light.
and at the same time,
the intensity of this treble and bass.

it's bleaching the beat of my heart.
covering it with rigamortis
and rigid waves of goodbyes.
sent from the spaces of that treble and bass.

only white ash move now
to this ******* treble and bass.
littering my senses
that have since escaped me.

© LW

like in a waltz.
there is an expectance of freedom,
but there is no liberty within rhythm.
vibrations shift our body's at an intended tempo.
puppeteering with the strings of our hearts,
our ears,
and our yesterday's.
each note echoing it's own clarity
and obscurity simultaneously.
sending us spiraling down, up, out,
and into it's melancholy melody.

© LW

the white, wired gates open
shimmering in the smell of summer
murky rubies drip from it's limbs
their stain slowly paint parabolas as they greet me with open arms
my head dressed heavy
and garnets leaking from between my knuckles
guide me to it's tongue
I give my worth to the fountain
inside these white, wired gates

© LW