Season

sometimes, just a certain song,
is all that is appropriate.
it’s the middle of the night and it’s bitter,
there are clouds in my brain and
fog mists my eyelids, I inhale it,
so my lungs are intoxicated with confusion,
self doubt, hate, lack of reality.
i don’t know how to talk,
i’ve never learned to express,
and when that certain song invades my ears,
my veins turn from winter to spring,
and i defrost.
08.02.17

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