(no subject)
Everywhere else, the sky is irrelevant. I take no notice anywhere else. Here it's distracting. It's imposing. It rides your shoulders like an external conscience. An angel-devil combo that offers no advice--good or bad. It's dead weight. You'd shove it back up into place if you were stronger. But you're not. One heft upward buying time for a deep breath and a glimpse of clarity. But you aren't stronger. Your knees buckle and thighs burn. Knuckles go white. Reason subsides to a unified thought. Get it off. Your heels sink into the dirt. Get it off. A flush of heat up your neck climbs your face grips your skull Get it off But you aren't stronger.