like shit hitting the fan

you compare me to the pale blue sky
when you turn your head up and
look up between the dazzling summer flowers -

but the fingers that rips them off the ground
were you lie still,
is me taking advantage of your
hippie-shit-flower-power-love attitude
while i sink into you as deceptively
white coloured clouds
making you see the witdh of something that is unchangeable

people.

(we just adapt the storms)