My mind is scorched, and dry in this
Unbeaten heat, so parched
And cracked, breaking through
My veins intact.
And it is tight and pressure just
Heaving up and raising high,
And a sense of breathlessness is engulfing me
So much twisting my neck, so hard.
The breeze once so cool, shriveled and
Chill, now it beats on my face,
So sharp, the coolness is only a feel of numbness,
A feel? No, sans-feel…
The flowers only stood so still and
They no longer swayed or danced, smiled,
Or sang their once so beautiful songs
For me, now in this midst of unearthing solitude…
A sense of fear, so chilling, as though
A prickly ice point sliding through my veins
With the coolness to melt, yet with the
Sharpness to wound me and pacify with the cold…
This phase, just glaring onto my face,
And the mockery of those dolls in front of me,
I look at them and they at me, I stay motionless,
numb, and they, they laugh their clown-ly laughter at me…
