Running Out of Sugar

Looms the midday, hot and bleak

Infiltrating head and feet.

Febrile notions, lying weak

Evil potions, bittersweet –

Sipping slowly, trusting fate.

 

Long the night wind, cold and dry.

Eyeballs tearing, dull impact.

Mouth erupting, silent cry.

Oily essence, sharp extract.

No more squeezing, empty zest –

Slipping slowly, losing faith.

You can only go so far with that whole turn lemons into lemonade!
You can only go so far with that whole turn lemons into lemonade!

Copyright © 2016 by Mitchell Allen