Image by Chris Barbalis

LETHARGY

I’ve bathed in tragedy for too long
so that misery begets my slumber.
No longer can I rise with agency now gone.
Wake me.
I need your moving force.
Is my anger not enough
that sounds my lips can make
leave no echo in your thoughts?
Have you seen my limbs decay
in the dusty sun.
Rotten.
Used.
Slovenly.
Numb.
My skin prickles in the heat,
Where are you now to save me?