The Desert

The warmth whispers through my skin, flows into my blood, eyelids drift closed

I have spiraled into a warm rest, like woolen blankets on my body, but there are no blankets

only the sun and the weight of the world pressing against me. How long has it been since I felt the cool breeze on my face,

gulped it in like the freshness of cold water in a desert, heard the thoughts in my mind crisp and clear as the babbling of a mountain brook?

How long has it been since I felt alive, running through hills and gasping an abundance of clean into my lungs?

I feel stifled by heat, drowning in a sweet haze of denial and distraction, sleeping in the sun like a cat stretched along itchy grass.

I am so tired of being buried in the warmth, so suffocating yet so hard to wrestle free from, so tired of the weight that presses against my resolve and pushes me further into sleep.

because when you’re wandering through a desert, sometimes it’s easy to forget what the cool splash of the ocean feels like.

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