It's cold inside

Tavi by Petra Collins for The Ardorous

laying my head on the floor

                                        i rest

tho lying to myself while brainstorming

                            with my head and tired brain

                                                               (and body)

with my arms around my legs, 

with my hands shaking

                                        i rest

                            while brainstorming

but who was to know the essence of this so called 'storm' of ideas

rather than storm, I see it as a whirlwind

in which i get lost 

                          and dizzy 

and who am i to attempt to escape from my own ideas?

                                   who am i?

to whom must i reach for help?

help for my tacky but reckless little brain

that, instead of letting me be free,

traps me

         and i drown

           and i can't breathe

             and the floor gets colder

               and my hands, tremulous

-m.j.