elegy for apathy

is a light green, kind                                                                                             of mild sea-sickness,                                                                                                     about as painful as being hit                                                                                            by a loaf of bread. If he’s a slut, er, lady’s man, and I have a lack of inspiration, where does thinking even get me. I need to get way past the basic, breathe in and out again mentality. I need to describe myself in a suit of armour with the truest lance in the land. Aim. I’m getting at aim.

settles in slowly, takes a nap before it even thinks about going anywhere. It’s easy, it makes life softer, the blows don’t feel as intense, but the stomach pain gets worse. Burning bile, a slight tinge of vomit in the throat at all times.