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  1. I feel you, heat.
    Running up and down my body.
    Pinpricks on legs, waves on my collar.
    The world is off-balance because of you.
    You make me dizzy,
    Like only that ride at Hull Fair
    Ever had the power to do. 
    Stop.
    Let me off.

    I'm searching and coming up empty.
    Running my tongue around inside the pot.
    Fumbling with plastic that has no end.
    Straws bend, cans never open.
    And I'm fighting this hunger
    With my last crumbs of control.
    Because the guilt will taste bitter.
    After the fact.
    It's a bit like regret, peppered with shame.
    I tell myself next time will be better.

    There will be a next time.
    Stop.
    Let me off. 
     
     

    Posted by Becky at 23:46 | Labels: |

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