For Your Daughter, in Time.

I was holding a glass.
I felt like striding outside,
Staring at the sun,
Smashing the glass on the ground,
And shouting,
"where have you been?"

But I didn't.

Death dollars
Weather cents
Money is not the root of all truth.

There is a Loch Ness Monster in my mug,
Your mug has spilled.
Your beast made of sponge.

You refuse to fold.
Too hot to hold.
Too shit to stick.

Wormwood brain on fire.
Nostrils flare, Asbestos breath.

Weather: bigger than Death.