The weight of the August trauma
Doesn’t come like the cold months
It’s not like the ocean that takes me under in
December
Nor like ice that stabs through me mid
January
It’s a slow
Whoozing of the head
Hazing of my sky
Clouding of my lungs
Im sweaty and
Unwitting of the
Toxins
Screwing with me
Something unhinges itself
Inside me
A darkness with silver skin
Holds my ankle
With his vice grip
An exhaustion I can’t explain
Starts pulling my bones
Down into the ground
And by the time I
Realize it’s smoke
It’s too late
My eyes are red and blurry
Burnt with tears from
Things I can’t unsee.
Things I can’t unbe.
And the weight of
Religiousity
Crushes me
So I run to hell
And let the devil
Have his way with me.