Skin itched by
sweat rash grown, on
shoulders rubbed by
clothes that don’t breathe

An ear is blocked
I can hear my own voice
irritated by its sound
against the blur of trivial noise

I cannot bear matters
that does not resolve themselves;
But am more annoyed by those
that could, and did not

If tomorrow always find things better
Like a clock with self-steering gear
— it intimidates me, the thought of
all midnight struggles made futile

This emotional ball of yarn
rolls forward, bigger and bigger
I lay all fingers to disentangle
only to weave them tighter

I am suffocated
by the impatience to spit it out
My mouth wide open,
the candy sticks in my throat