i drove away
on your summer's day
how i always said
i loathed summer

its atrocities
its heat
which i now lack

all the sorrow in your heaven
and how i questioned heaven

martyrs are acknowledged
posthumous

oh how i
loathe you, tennessee.
and georgia,
why did you spit me
out of your mouth?

that damn summer
of hell
all your damn summers
of hell.

at least there
was refuge of some sort.
now there is no
turning back.

recourse and result
action begets reaction
and i abhor reaction

103.6
and temperature rising
high fever and saturated sheets

i lie my head down
to rest
on broken dreams.