I let the hurt
seep in
cut into my chest
and flow through
every inch of me
like ice.
I sit rigid;
the sharp cold
pain takes over
until it throbs
with my heartbeat.
It’s harder
to reign it
back in
with bourbon
and beer
dulling the
searing cut
of reality to an ache,
but I sit here with
the storms
and the heat
and the
changing climate
thinking over
the fate of my kids,
and there’s
to dull how
we’ve screwed
them out of
other than
cleaning up
this mess
many generations
before their