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Sweaty

By: 

Nazlican

Dag

A poem written for my best friend who suffers with a medical condition. The symptoms of this coincide with the way in which my mind goes into overdrive at moments of anxiousness. A situation which many of us have found our selves in during 2020 - a year of realities, similarities and everything in between.

today is difficult to begin
though my body moves with the hours
My mind stays. Displaced.
palms remain sweaty with angst as they detach from the remainder of my vacant being. this
should just last a day but I have been here for a week.
there feels to be a purpose. just like palms that sweat. no purpose.
but
this should just last a day.

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