Chasing the dead/

You traced a war across my palm. The surged romance seeped like language from an overcrowded market. The way electrons communicate from across galaxies on a hot day. Riots fell from the sky, like tiny pieces of broken raindrops. Scarred skies continue to climb into our chakras like lightning storms torn into twelve harmonies. I'm singing a song of pure violation, I've snatched the habitat from the forest fire and perpetual burning is the cause for which we fight. I'm not down with it. I rode in on several myths, legends and folktales. Minus dances, blunt edges and sand storms I was one formation away from alignment with the centre of the universe. Aiming with all my soul and three notes of a bird song, I managed to wake the goddess, hoping she wasn't startled, I reached for the color black tied to a pendulum. The Goddess awoke and knocked over a chalice which became a waterfall dancing over the face of a cliff. I am music's own existence. I am this planet not being ours and faith exhumed. A symmetrical right way of doing things. The rain itself was a million cluster bombs. They wouldn't ban the rain would they? Infiltrate the speed of science that bled dreams starved monkeys. A disease with a mind of it's own. Cloned genius transferred into odd socks to baffle metric. Numb time. Strange clouds seen in the sky. Terror on ice. Terra iced. Chasing the dead. Furthermore, collisions, incisions & incursions at random. Humans are becoming angels. Humans are becoming hated. Humans are becoming petrified. Oil prices are rising. But damn that breath, an army of distractions fueled by me. Your resistance is but a few tiles in this blessed hurricane storm of ours. The wind is a mile lost in itself.. Snapping and lashing at everything like a foul tongue.