it’s too hot for poetry

9 Sep

it’s too hot for poetry

the sweat stains my words

you can smell it right on the page

bathed in life’s pungent juices

it’s too hot to be human

we are just creatures seeking shade

animals without clothes

melting into the earth

like a stinky ice cream cone

it’s too hot for poetry

it’s too hot for any human pursuit

just a unquenchable thirst

and bodies bathed in sweat

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