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the clouds are against us today
screaming warnings against rough hewn electrics
a funnel cloud
kisses the ground
in long awaited anticipation
spiraling into seamless cataclysms
pandemonium is embraced by fear
and towns turned to salamungandi
We are but the remains of dismembered dreams
houses crushed into matchstick massacre
flames calling forth the potpourri of an ending
that came far too soon.