Signs Of An Approaching Tornado:

signs of an approaching tornado:

your mouth inexplicably fills with rainwater

the creaks that sneak out of your stairs when you walk down them are suddenly short bursts of a siren only you can hear

the sunlight comes in from odd angles lighting up everything you didn’t want to see

your ceiling gets as dark and thick as thunder clouds

you open your cabinets to find only hail golf ball sized spilling onto your floor

everyone decides to go to church instead of down to their basement

it seems like your neighbor has been mowing his lawn for hours maybe days

the corn is whispering more than usual

you can’t understand anything the weatherman is saying but when you look through your neighbors’ windows you notice they’re glued to their screens reciting every word of the forecast as if they already knew

the air turns yellow green and when you look into a mirror you find that the color has stained your own skin

it gets so humid you start to choke

there are terrifying noises in the middle of the night and you tell yourself it’s just the old abandoned barns succumbing to the high winds

as you drive out on the highway trying to escape you keep passing the same billboard

HELL IS REAL

you can’t figure out how you keep passing the same billboard if you’re driving in a straight line

there’s something in the air, a new kind of precipitation, old white paint chips signal that decay is approaching faster than you thought

you forget what rain smells like and the air gets stale like your dad’s breath after a couple of beers

don’t worry the farmer’s market is still open

there’s less roadkill than usual, death is busy with more pressing engagements during a natural disaster

the canadian geese stand in the middle of a field as if they’ll never move again

when the tornado finally comes, you forget all your prayers and only wind spills out of your mouth