august
august is coming all too soon,
with its rotted poppy-stalks and its apocalyptic skies
i’m told it didn’t used to be this way
but i can’t remember anything
but heat domes and ice baths
lukewarm saltwater lapping against my toes
i can’t slow it down,
i can’t stand in its way
i can’t break the ground i walk upon
and command it
to just give me one more day
august is wilting, all too soon
the lazy-days and panic attacks
the sweat trickling down my back
the carsick stomachache, i stare at a screen
i want to see it all, i want to take in the snap of twigs beneath my feet
the burn in my thighs and the words on the page
i want to follow each footstep back to its grave
i want to run as far as i can bear
but i’m running out of time, and i’m only halfway there
so i brush the dust
off my keyboard, watch the clouds dissipate and fade
in the palms of my hands, i pace back and forth
smash shit on the floor
always by mistake
because august is coming all too soon
because i’m never going to live this again
because i’m terrified, i’ll wake up one day
and wish to do it all again