Peeling the Grime Off
Under the weight of college years I doubt even Atlas would be strong.
By the week's end I feel coated in a slime of anxiety and exhaustion.
To feel like myself again, to get the creak and crack out of my neck and back I make a hot bath.
Curled up in my beanbag I call my cat over; treats help.
I have my tea and a bunch of books and my headphones.
All is quiet and it's rejuvenating to think of nothing for a while.
An overbusy mind is never healthy or productive.
This poem is about:
Me