Fool, July Doesn't Exist Poem by Jacob Underwood

Navy rain threshing away at torn open streets flooding at the seems
Cascading of the red umbrellas of a former bright sunny daybreak
Fireworks softens to decorational sticks even their bright color dampened
Loud crackling no more just the steady steps of the onslaught of the downpour
Clouds covering the sky in a signature stone gray a serene dream for a bedlam
Cars barely able to fight the wind as the streets become a rave of carbeams

Whip after whip the water raging to flow and flood the canals and riverstreams
Creating puddles down the sidewalks looking like a lockets forgotten keepsake
The streamers caught in the flowing waterways looking like discarded and sickened
Like drowned worms completely lifeless like a fishes body finally beaching upshore
The air of silenced celebration the rains showing their down and depressing venom
The sounds of vehicles swerving off road like the frighten of a ghouls screams

Balloons sounds like drums with every thump of the rain the cacophonous extremes
Still with the downtrodden of people rushing inside after today's ripened mistake
Beating the leaves of the trees reminiscent as the rain still falls as if it was cannoned
It scars with seagulls swarming the park grounds like a rabbit and a condor
All thoughts of luxury cancelled as the dim lights fade like the newspaper's stardom
Almost completely brutal but not all of it a paradise an introverts sudden dreams

No longer sudden bangs of fear in the night nor the smell of smoke yet no schemes
Only through wishing now there's never a tremor in my ears each time it's a headache
But all sails of July ripped down in the drumming monsoon finally rightfully reckoned
No longer will the screaming flowers in the sky bloom trapped in Poseidon's trapdoor
And now the threat of fire's lich crawling inside but now no one can even fathom
As I applaud in my head Julys death done in one swoop by waters streams

I might seem bitter and fragile I know but it's not my job to weigh the scalebeams
So here I'll sit In my gleeful schadenfreude dressing a lilac and stirring a milkshake
With a cherry drop in the noiseless and unbothered so my anxiety sweetly lessened
Drinking away to spite my tongue or teeth like I have a new rush of rich purple Ichor
As regrets are for tomorrow for today is simply silent glee and sleep in my sanctum
Just letting the pot of spoiled July bubble and pop to enjoy the steams