A Tornado is Sitting In Your Head
A tornado is sitting in your head. But it isn’t sitting in your head. You
are telling me what the tornado is really doing. But I am thinking
about your freckles on your nose. I am thinking about them opening.
This is because I am dumb. I don’t mean this in a self-aggrandizing
kind of way. I just don’t fully understand my function as a body. As
blood making more blood. But I don’t want you to be scared. I don’t
want you to be as scared as I am. Because I am a tree. Because you
can climb me and hide in the roughness of my shadows. You can look
down at where you were and think I used to be a thing subject to wind
and physics and death. Now I am a thing being touched by the sun. I
am being opened like a tornado laying down at the end of its short
and beautiful and terrifying life.
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