This heat brings out the crazy
it’s all fireworks, domestic abuse in the streets
shirtless pathetic rages on stolen children’s dirt bikes
silly kids wandering the wharf in search of phone charging stations
bloated tourists tottering along 1st and Market
Dear Georgi is this summer over yet? No sirrah no
pop up storms like drive bys
the rain are just evaporated bullet shards
this corpse we’ve built our cities on, a necrotic mess of a thing
even the mayflies don’t land on it
we are a colony of spiders starving in our spun machinations
this moment is one of a billion synthetic experiences
100 % pure sacred-inspired holograms
O moon O Georgi there are not prayers enough
for the shit storm waiting on the back of this heat