Apocalypse

Amongst the surviving haze of melted butter skies,
fractured arrays of tangerine clouds and pineapple ties,
the fevered bitter smoke waters my mouth.
Like delicate fairly floss,
lingering past the saliva that trickles off my tongue.

The heavens above daunt shadows to the rivers breasts
preparing to kiss her goodnight.
Attracting like magnets but repelled by a blaze.
The horizon separated by a single colour.
Red.

Kisses become splinters
and the atmosphere turns suffocating.
A polaroid picture swallows a swarm of colours,
choking on the sickly summer skies.

Pitter. Patter.
Ash builds its triumph over the riverbed
and the day reaches for its sombre crown.
A colour palette wiped of its warm tones
The mellow awakening of the unknown begins