My eyes are heavy
Breathing requires so much,
Like heaping coal into a locomotive
only to move a few feet,
then lurch to a halt
grinding and sparks flying
awaiting the next shovels of fule
only to inch forward again.
Futility.

My muscles, bones feel as though
they are being pulled from the swamp
where they have lain for eons
water logged, dripping mud
caught on deep cypress roots who have wound
in and up and around and through
pulling, tearing as they are freed

My blood pumps, thick and heavy
slow, and hot
it burns my veins, skin
as it forces its way through
the wild network of subway tunnels
that run from my heart
out to the most remote of stops

Skin made of rice paper
on fire, the ashes blowing away
as embers sink deeper into my tissue
Vertebrae like Jenga blocks
being pushed and pulled
falling apart and back together again
can’t lift my thousand-pound head
filled with lead and dreams
without knocking down the tower
losing the game