Sunday settles on me like a heavy haze
Heat curls up in my crevices, sickly, damp
A vast sea of nothing sits idle, watching.
A fever of sloth is sweet, sweet poison
Crumpled on sheets, a mist of sweat
Like dewdrops for those who slumber.
Limp limbs, rise, make use of this time-
Words whisper in the deathly afternoon
Quiet them, says the sun. Be still.