Heat
I cannot bear,
I cannot bear,
The slightest touch,
The touch of air.
Air is cloying,
Air is hot,
Makes sweet scratches
Swell and rot.
Pangs of hunger strike me hard,
Trill 'bout ulcerated hearts,
'long the street there ain't no folk,
Under heat with croup I choke...
And I miss my ancient yoke...