Behave

My head

a lightning rod that

signals impending rain

days before it 

back-lights the clouds. 

Without lightning,

there is only static,

a silence that thrums the

synapses of my brain.

If thoughts have mass,

then I weigh a ton, and

I am counting the pounds

as they collect -

under my chin

around my middle

between my legs; finally,

stacking themselves above my feet

pressing me further to the ground so that

every step becomes

a burden. 

I am immovable

Unmoved by the

daily data that drives us,

forces us to the cliff of extinction, and says,

"You, there! 

You behave, 

or else."

When I see the outline of clouds

in the flickering of the sky;

When I feel the lightning 

behind my eyes,

I wonder,

'Who will die 

if I misbehave?'