Sweaty.

Lingering.

Cold and wet.

Warm and slothly.

Is this over yet?

Dry.

Cracking.

Strong, intense.

Why must we do this?

Germs.

Dirt.

Ache in my bones.

Can’t focus now,

Am I alone?

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This entry was posted on Monday, March 29th, 2010 at 4:18 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.