DUST

Even the sound of air has become unbearable. Though the condensation keeps me from seeing the reflection of the person I hate,
it cannot hide the bitterness inside me. I wish the drifting fog would swallow everything—
and erase my existence with it. My tears have frozen shut,
and I can barely open my eyes. My hands are crimson,
like the flag of Canada. By the time the ringing in my ears had turned fizzy,
I woke from the dream. 27:19 PM This bed feels
like a frozen lake in the Arctic. My whole body is numb with cold.
I can feel my blood slowing,
freezing still inside me.