After Burning, Read:

 
This Apocalypse is being televised in your living room, on every channel of your big-screen TV.  The flames of discontent and prejudice are heaving and burning down everything, everywhere between dusk and the rupture of dawn. Everyone everywhere is a thirsting antipathist who lays in wait to doom troll anyone, anytime, all the time. And for what? 
 
We are surrounded by hatred. We have been invaded slowly by fear. We have been taken over by the indifference to death.
 
Even poetry is compromised. We can not compose freely, easily, or sometimes, at all. We may mask our words, our connections, our functions, and our heavenly coincidences in fear of being misunderstood when straightforward or raw. Sometimes thoughts are wrapped in a haphazard metaphor as if we are terrorized by butterflies in fields of flaming poppies. Or maybe it is the hideous fevered monster that is never to be satiated that menaces the narratives the most. Its spirit moves without elegance, integrity or the willingness towards honesty.
 
This is a Summer of Love? 
This is madness.  
I will not cozy up to these bonfires of coup de grâce. 
Now, I’m just waiting on Winter, to read a good book. 
 
©️Winter Dawn Burns