░▒▓█▓▒░

Days are getting shorter now,

although we’re still steaming out of our skins.

The bug bites crawling up my legs,

strings of tiny carnelian beads,

harass me in the dark of my bedroom—

as if I don’t deserve to sleep.

Darkness will lurch into autumn,

sucking up the sticky summer atmosphere;

I don’t know if I am ready—

lying half-naked

on crumpled bedsheets.