There’s this thing that happens in the middle of summer where I just can’t stand myself anymore.

Where the trees look perfect as they dance in the breeze but I feel I’m rotten to the core.

And I wonder if there’s something I’m missing as my tongue drags heavy on the floor.

I will stare at the vultures that glide on the air who pick at the world’s bleeding sores.

O, I guess it’s not so bad

To sit here in the shade

And watch the renewal

Of the Universe and its cascade.

O, The sun is all upon me,

O, I’m Thumbing through the darkness,

O, I’m sweating in the heat,

O, How many angels in the humidity?

O, I guess it’s not so bad,

To count the bird songs

And wonder if they’re for me

And how many more I’ll hear before the snow falls.