September Writing 2020

out of reach

a cup of red hot tea
the shade of blood
warm in my hands

a fire in the hearth
even as wild fires rage around us
turning the air white, like dense fog

it smells hot, like burning
it looks cold, like mist
a contradiction in the sky

i feel cold
somewhere far away
like something is wrong

i cant reach it
that wrongness
but i can feel it, just beyond my grasp

i want to curl up into a ball and hide away
not let the thing in my stomach and the thing in my brain talk to each other
i want to feel good again

it was such a good weekend
and a good week too
but now i dont feel good anymore

what happened
why does this always have to happen
what does it mean