The world oozes by
Drenched in migraine molasses.
Heated air mocks chill.
Author: autumncircles
Not sure what to call this but my toner is low
On the precipice
Changing season begs desire.
Dawn peaks through the blinds.
I feel a non-metered rant coming on…
Safely hidden lump
growing deep inside my throat.
Fresh cut breaks the skin.
MKat Reclamations 