storming skin
strangles me
boils me
like a furnace
insides rage
like a panther pacing
in a small, tight cage
no cool air
just the breath of hell
walls breathe
a pin drops loudly
my mind as dry and crisp
as the sizzling desert
oh, to be a cool mountain lake
and not this hot, blazing sun!
`t. imaan tretchicovmanicova
31may05