sirens
followed by
crashing
thunder
the rain
hammering
the windows
as lightning
arcs inside
my skull

i have entirely
too much to do
to be sitting
watching the storms
yet here i am in
another parking garage
so similar to all
the other tombs
hastily erected
to accrue oil stains
and aching fools
confounded by
compounding pressures
resoundingly reticent
a recluse ruminating
on the emptiness abound

besides the imminent
sense of suffocating
it has been a mild june
the sullen sunbeams
reluctant to piece through
the sultry curtain of clouds
but i am well aware of
the hellish nature
inherent in summer
so i tread in trepidation
awaiting the eventual surplus

for now it’s
sirens
the crashing
of thunder
as the rain
pummels this
puerile prison
leaving only
oil stains and
pathetic fools