the sky is
an off putting
shade of gray
with an unseemly
reddish tint
squirming
static ridden
fly larva
writhing across
an ocean of shit
a malignancy
of stuttered aches
smothering down
the out of time
clanging chimes
sound morosely
the sputtering
circling planes

the skies
are infected
with disdain
oozing down
the wrinkled cheek
of a creator
long grown bored
with her creation
too weak
to just end it all
daydreaming of
torching the globe
a fever dream
in divine distaste