this dense and mysterious air
that drips from my ceiling tiles like
molasses
and sweetly tempts me to drown in it

it doesn't promise me escape from you
from anything
it only beacons me with its uncertainty
the beautiful naivety of uncertainty
that you took from me

with you there is no mystery
no hot cool clarity

it drips down my walls and suspends
just above my body
it seeps into my sheets
and makes a mess of me
of me
you make
a mess of me
and now I'm back to this
the hot cool bliss
the movement slows of the molasses

just as my escape from you is most dire
the dripping movement seems to tire
tire
tire
tire
sweet sweet sleep
I'll deal with you tomorrow