Super-Cluttered by Damaris Martinez

Sometimes 
I’m too much in my head. 

The wind is gently guiding me, 
Keeping me company, 

I mistake it for a hurricane. 

The sun is warm on my skin,
A mellow reassurance, 

It’s scorching me to blisters. 

I’m walking on soft dirt, 
Steady under my feet, 

The ground is swallowing me whole.

I can barely move an inch. 
It’s all in my head.