Outside is grey, and the air is taut
Tight like a drum beating time in my brain
Just enough off from the rhythm of my pulse
That it creates silent, painful dissonance behind my eyes.
Thunder rolls casually across the sky
As a tourist drives by a famous landmark
And counts such as actually being there
Another picture postcard from a place never experienced
A pulled muscle refuses to stretch, and like the air
Feels thick and unwieldy
Hurts to move, but also to keep still
And my temperature is cold and hot
And my mood is grey
Neither up nor down
But bland and indifferent
Like the grey outside.