Meteorology is for the weak.

Meteorology is for the weak.

You can not handle this.

The most violent waves crashing on the shore.

The angriest flames burning away at the Earth.

The sharpest of winds tearing down all in its path.

You can not handle it.

For I am mother nature, and you are a weatherman.

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Purple 

Purple 

The words are coming, but I can’t make art. They’re fiery red & melancholy blue. The fire is explosive and nefarious. It consumes all. No surface left untouched or unscathed. The sea is all consuming. I’m drowning in the waves & choking on the water. Where are the firemen? Where is the life buoy? Now the entire canvas is purple & I’m so terribly sad.