Oven hot inside despite
My ringbearer insisting she turned off the heating first thing
This evening upon her arrival home
We’re Irish and raingrown, both groaning “It’s roasting!”
Moaning non-stop, shirtless and sweating
I’d bet this is a sign of the end, if I did betting
The world had its day, nice wedding with confetti
But I don’t let it upset me
Now time for funeral fudge, the endless let down
You won’t need sledges or your dressing gown
Burnt so my dermal ridges hurt
Did the sun burst?
Inside the temperate compound, infiltration by solar ninjas
Even when blotting darkness pervades, stinging heat lingers
I wish it again frigid
Swapping shifts inside the fridge
Storebought cubes to ice her minge
Heat such that makes a bedouin cringe
Grian injection plight, Phoebus’ feebling syringe
Different story outside
Night leatherbound with stars wound through the fringe
Pleading, this boiler-feeling would melt the Sistine roof
Climate change the norm deranged, and here’s your proof
It boils the very roots
One moment there, the next gone; poof.
Alchemisland 
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