the discomfort of nature

Feminine hygiene product lozenge lodged in my body bloody and achy-

When is summer coming, or at least spring?

This Indian winter (so to speak) has got me beat and freezing- like a beast hungry- fully equipped with shiny shimmy shakes that fall and break- and I cannot fake to forget-

When the leaves of these trees begin to breathe again, flowers start to bloom; animals/humans alike have heart, take a room, and begin to breed, alive

I believe I'll be able to survive- maybe even thrive- find the things went missing in my life that I need to rid my personality of this dreaded disease that has suddenly taken hold of me recently- as of late

Accidental strategies seem more and more to be acts of fate,
I lack the money, have no date;

Or can cover the expense but have not a friend/love with which to share the experience-

Not another to care about me enough to go out- I recede in times of need and doubt, back inside of the shell sphere blue-green encompassing my reality so seemingly unfairly-

Despairingly I pop another ibuprofen pill cure in attempt to stall or better yet end the discomfort of nature.

there must be more than this

it's hard to fall asleep when there's nothing to wake up for. it's hard to smile when your lips and eyes are sore from straining to see the meaning behind tears induced by fears of proof to such news.

there are mean reds inside her head; there exist fierce blues within his chest- yet both of them, all of us, continue to live. is it- can it be simply because death is the alternative? there must be more than this.