They speak lighting and thunder in Shanghai

They speak lightning and thunder in Shanghai
With the flash of emotion, and the knowing boom of reply.

The typhoon hits hard in the city—
the rain pelts hard off the haphazard march of umbrellas,
each to its own purpose.

And the constant sound of wet tires
usurping puddles on the street side terrifies your ears
as you tremble, under your flimsy plastic cover,
waiting for help.

Perhaps, a dry spot; perhaps, understanding.

Coils

The long, coiled regret wraps itself around my neck,
hissing sweet soft doubts in my ear.
There it lies, weight heavy on my shoulders
slithering sorrow up my spine.

I tear my heart out, smash it to pieces
sick of the anguish, sick of the hesitation, the torment the fear
And I wring myself of feeling, pain and remorse.
til I am warm, dry. hollow.

But yet, the dissonant sibilance whispers to me,
chokes me, constricts me
And I stoop to fit the broken shreds back in place.
All the while slowly its venom drips,
burning between the misshapen cracks.

when feeling returns, deep down—
I ache.