because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

a break in the lightning

fucking inadequate
the soles of my shoes
in the summer on a pavement too
hot to run barefoot,
the temperature control
in my soul out of sorts
with the weather, incongruous thunder
in flattened veins,
fattened sluggish blood
refusing to pound
for me the chaff of nightmares,
a dirty sunrise
uncovered each morning like
the scratchy wool tapestry they wrapped
me in to get rid of the fever, saying
i had to sweat it out.


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