Super-Cluttered by Damaris Martinez
Sometimes
I’m too much in my head.
The wind is gently guiding me,
Keeping me company,
I mistake it for a hurricane.
The sun is warm on my skin,
A mellow reassurance,
It’s scorching me to blisters.
I’m walking on soft dirt,
Steady under my feet,
The ground is swallowing me whole.
I can barely move an inch.
It’s all in my head.