Is it raining red?
Or am I drowning from the inside out?
Windshield-wipers over my eyes cease,
Half completed and sublimely over-clocked unwound in cloudy wilderness.
From my cheeks,
Liquid magenta markers compose borderlines across my body
Etching the multitudinous canyons that reverberate,
Revolting against the plate,
Crossing the frame, destroying my delineation;
Pushed against myself, submerging the very part of-
Renewing what had just come to know life.
These confounding crossings, squiggles upon my squirming,
Just like snow in November, a world not ready for equality, or
Echoing shells that keep talking back
Shouting impotent unfortunates:
This is the exponential acceleration of a generation unknowing
And I am stirred; made dizzy, only constantly.
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