gorbajorp

[gorbajorp]

Summer's Song

I feel the late July heat flood the humid room I take refuge in; still the scorching waves dance to an unknown song. Next to me the cheap electric fan sings as it weakly alleviates my heat-stricken body, The pores on my body cry sweat from the sensation in brief respite. The bed holds my back, wth the duvet strewn across my floor as an act of desperation and disgust, I can’t help but stare at my chipped ceiling; off white from cadence of smoke from previous tenants, I see the particles of dust pirouette delicately to the aria of the inescapable light.

Outside I can hear the melodies of insects reclaiming their land as people seek shelter from the rampant sun, The smell of smoke and fire from poor attempts at barbecues suffocate the melancholic air, Distant whispers of indistinguishable echo across the cloudless skies. The summer rhapsody chants in dominance, overwhelming any who dare to listen.

[gorbajorp]

The Grass in my Garden

The grass in my garden is overgrown, I can see it from my window. The blades of grass and wildflowers bend to gravity’s command. It’s better for the environment I justify, ignoring my numbness and inability to act.

I watch it grow slowly from my kitchen window, like the frames of film in a movie. My mind grows a deeper shade of blue and red with each observation, Tears well from my eyes as the simplest tasks evade me, “why can’t I do this?” echoes across my mind, feeling the world grow colder and heavier each time.

Then I feel it, the warmth of sunlight on my pale skin, Alleviation rushes through me, as I turn and look at the sun, The entrancing light engulfs my body once again as the cold thoughts fade. The sound of the lawnmower erupts in my garden and the tall grass bows to the blade of the machine.