Hot mess

Sun and Summer have returned
bringing with it a heated haze
sure to deny sleep and rest
more than the usual amount.
My mind and body surge with heat
but rather than brining fire for the boiler
it robs me of thought and inspiration
desertifying the little lush greenness
of peace and calm that had been cultivated.
So while others write
about new found and reclaimed peace:
I am here,
an intense conflagration
who either smoulders with black ashen anger
barely bursting out in bellicosity
or the fires of passion rage wildly with no outlet
as I become more and more
all heat and no warmth.
With glimpses of mirages
on the far horizon in the peripherals
showing love and life and the lot
and more half-baked dreams in the baking heat.
Though I may yet fight the fire
and blaze some glory
before being nothing but a hot mess.