I won't fake it, I know I'm not @ ease,
water's hung on the air, blankets are told
to take the weeks off, to summer I'm sold.
Stagnant, wrapped in my own heat, feel no breeze
as I remind myself I'm far from hell.
There's a sense of powerlessness . I fall
into a black corner, shadows bear, call
on me, I feel pins on my neck, I yell
not, but breathe and feel weak. Where's the clout
I'm used to? I must change this place with
all I have, yet. Focus on the words, lithe
sounds, meaning knowing felt, it's a long bout.
My sweat hisses to steam, melting my skill
to sweet ichor- kill the cloak. What a thrill