Are there Hurricanes in heaven?

My meaningless purpose

has yet to come out

of the cracks

in the ceiling

built weak

by week

cities rise

and fall like spring

brings talk of water lilies

resting on the backs of men

too shallow to give

a damn

Ladies and gentle men

can't run

the world

revolves

in its holster

Madness still spreads

like art.

About the Author

Becca Choi, English major and Art-major-wannabe, aspires to travel the world. She spends most of her time day dreaming and conjuring up adventures, vacations, and road trips.