Allergies and Effigies.

Climbing down my throat, like a kitten's claw on sandpaper. Tiredness sets in. I want to curl up with it and sleep for a week. I may be harbouring a bug. It may also be the lorax like pollen falling as softly as snow. Spinning through the tree tops possessing the wind, and my lungs. How can I so innately reject something so natural. I have already forgiven nature for her crime for she is only doing that which she is meant to do. I envy her for knowing what that is and then for executing it with such fervour. Alas, there seems to be a growing anxiety, not within me, but all around. I want to panic but weariness pulls on my lashes and purrs. Wanting to captain the ship I steer headlong into the crowd. Seduced only by the sirens of sleep. The light hangs late, so late that the birds still chant. I remember how much I love Lilacs. And not because I do but because my mother does. I call to mind her visceral reactions every time she has stumbled upon them. A burning memory exporting her to youth, times of easiness and her mother. I want to hold her. She must be so tired. I grant myself a moment to feel the pain of our distance. Tiny little woman who carried my world on her shoulders. I am fading and drifting and hoping to wake up tomorrow rested. I wish no discomfort to any heart who loves a part of me. Tonight many innocents suffer, I know not of this kind of pain. I am merely in selfish discomfort within entitled plentifulness. Oh, I just disgusted myself. Don't let me fall into the pit of ignorance and injustices. Let me do enough. My mind passes faces cold as stone. People who have been there for me. People who could need me. People who think they don't need anyone. Frozen reminders of what? Fatigue drapes herself in my lap. My heart slows. My lovely little life full of allergies and effigies.