I Always Liked the Heat, But There are Limits

Somehow grey emptiness consumes me tonight
Like the cigarette smoke in my lungs
Coating me inside to
The yellow smell on my fingertips

Last time I was ate up
By cool wind that carried mist from the north
I drew paragraphs of lines,
My coffee-cream summer skin
Broken up with red like my hibiscus tea.
I watched it seep up with force.

I expelled demons I left unnamed
Refusing to give them proper housing.
But they have returned, trying to claim what I never had
They cling like peasants to bread
Roasting my soul in their brick oven
Burning the edges and melting me at the core.

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