Overheated Debates Poem by Alyx True Edge

A world overheated,
brightly burning and boiling in its bone marrow.
Take the taiga and the tundra,
take what is left untreated.

Still, at least, people talk
musing on the way of talking.

Metallic brass or a nod in agreement?
Trying to carry meaning honestly,
or crush it by viciously deceiving?

Hands come close but revoke their unity,
they seem contagious with their lurking impurity.
Frail echoes cleaving their way through cathode rays,
unknown what they might entail.

Meanwhile waiting turns out to be a bliss.
Affects move and hiss,
on the distant side of the river.
Neurons decide, administer, and preside,
the inner battle, a crunching shiver.

Keep your hands calm and utter words.
Blazes appear there,
where others are forced to decide,
against darkness, for fragile hours of light.

Something will last at last
but not least a brittle thought,
a brittle, shallow glimpse at the hopeful.

The one hiding well from the dark,
forgetting, ignoring, voiding hell
The one keeping us in touch,
with what is about to leave,
The one, by being there,
Allowing us to grieve,
over the bereaved,
Soil.