It's warm, like the feeling of the sun lightly beating down on your skin.

Right before the moment that you feel as though you will begin to sweat, a cool breeze dances on your skin, if only for a moment, before the rays find their way back.

It's like the early morning, when the harsh rays of the sun are beginning to burn up the coolness of the fading night.

You might think I'm crazy,

And maybe I am

or maybe

the mundaneness of everyday life

slowly crushing my soul

is what drives me crazy

Everyday I daydream

Daydream about all sort of things

In these daydreams

I've had conversations

with people who never existed

about situations

that have never occurred.

When I was little

I would daydream

about being a hero

or even a villain.

Or just someone of importance

And since I had few, if any, true friends

I would imagine

what they would be like

the personalities they would have

The experiences we might share

the jokes we would laugh at

I could write a book

on all the worlds

that I have imagined

I don't know why I do this

Maybe it kept me

from going insane

Maybe I was born insane

Maybe I think my life

is far too boring

or maybe just maybe

I have an overactive imagination

Who knows?

Certainly not me

Irma winks with hurricane eyes,

breathing fury crashing on sands.

Savagery of waves pounding,

nature destroying nature,

tangling Florida without reason -

a monster betraying our trust

tattooing tattered shores.

Unstable eyes of angry tempests

bleeding tears upon our beaches,

lightning punching in fury,

wavering sky threatening to swallow -

all in death refrain of a hangman,

forcing residents to forsake homes,

trembling limbs beset by carnage.

Gusts tossing screaming palms,

onyx gales strangling souls.

Life as we know it cast aside

as birds fly lifeless in raging sky,

trust betrayed by exploding thunder

leaving stairs leading nowhere.

Treacherous cobalt sky vents anger -

bloody aftermath of crimson rain.

Ambushed light laments and moans

as white witch leaves calling card

of tumbled loss and heartache.

Please stretch out your arms

to welcome me home

to my sacred place, unscathed

when storm’s wrath

and destruction is expended.

I beg to return once more

to my cherished cottage

by unspoiled seaside sand.

It feels so marvelous to have been broken. To have been shattered and to have put the pieces back myself. To have glued them the wrong way so there are still holes where love and pain can seep through.

 Let me be your vase. Let me be your vice. Let me be yours.

 Tape up the holes in my heart with the strongest tape imaginable. Pour water in me until it bursts through. 

Hold me but not too tightly. Make me feel like a work of art, like a rare collectible. Pay a high price for me. Love me just the right amount. 

This glue is fragile and I don't know how much longer I'll be whole. Love me for the pieces that won't fit. Love me for me. Don't mend the holes and don't pour in water. Put flowers in and watch them die.

 Pity them and pity me for the things I lack. 

Let me gather dust and disintegrate and don't love me enough to let me go. I'm not worth anything now anyway, not now that I am broken.

 It was your arm that carelessly knocked me off the table. So where were you when I broke? The sound must've woken you. 

I am gone now but you think of me.

 You've filled your house with new vases and told everyone you'll be alright. You miss me and the glass edges that made your fingers bleed.

 You miss my fragility and my fortitude. 

I miss you but I forget why. You didn't let go of me, I let go of myself. I wish you'd have been there to see me fall, I was so beautiful.