storms

give me storms.

give me weather that reflects me,

the lightning that flexes inside my fingers,

the snow coating my skin.

give me storms: fuck this neutrality outside,

the peaceable blandness, the constancy of the sky.

give me

skies that break open in the afternoons, skies that scream for attention,

sidewalks assaulted with raindrops,

howling, angry, violent,

the smell of something unspeakable in the air.

fuck this gentleness, this calm, this picture-painted blue,

like there are not storms inside me, no lightning or thunder,

the howling and the violence,

as though i were a tidepool, a soothing thing, drawn out in watercolor,

as though i were not knee-deep in raging waves

(howling, angry, violent)

give me storms sending people running for cover

as i crouch somewhere on the street, the air crackling around me,

raindrops pattering on my tilted-up face.

give me

electricity, and violence,

howling and angry, a reflection of what festers inside me,

inside of the peaceable blandness, the watercolor in the blankness of my blue-green eyes,

give me storms.