Not Well
Simmering blood burbles beneath the thin skin of my forehead. Apathy dominates my daytime mood, and listlessness reigns over my nights. Desiccated throat constricts and causes vocalizations to rumble raspily and with an unsteadily reverberating baritone timbre. I lay on red leather couch, roll over, and mumble, “I am not well,” to no one in particular.








