CALL ME BELOVED

I miss the sureity that carried me as a teenager,
despite the gaping flaws in my prized logic
a sense of control is an intoxicating thing.
the gentle chaos and nuance of the day to day
is just as revitalizing, or so I tell myself
from the moment my feet leave the covers,
as the weight and the atmosphere begins
to press down, to turn my drawing breaths
soupy in my lungs – thick with portent.