7 / 30 : hot and bothered.

so its 5:45 in the morning and today i was listening to my itouch and i hear this crazyyyy noise. my fan broke. i like to keep my room cool. my sleep cycle is already fucked and im burning up in this room and i cant sleep so...why not write it out.

i'll probably end up writing another poem by the end of the day, which hasn't legit begun. 2 poem limits per day though is the rule. i'll adhere.

....but seriously, does anyone have a fan i can borrow until the end of the month?

hot and bothered

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tied is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity

-- William Butler Yeats

i can't help by lay on my back

in my room and i'm sweating

beads sliding down my furrowed brow

as i wonder where and when

things fell apart

my fan is broken and although im 

burning up one of the main reasons

i keep it on al the time is the noise

drowns out everything in the hall

everything outside

everything in me

and now that i threw it down the chute

silence fills the room and

my thoughts are trickling down my face

and i can hear the pit pat of the

raindrops on this april morning

i guess i'll buy a new fan tomorrow

because i can't live like this

staying up until 6 am 

worrying about these issues

that are suffocating me 

with sweltering density

things fall apart

this i know to be true and i've

seen it happen so often this year

that i admit

that i've stopped trying to build up

what i know the tide will come

and wash away

but be that as it may

on this april morning i lay

veering between 

a lack of conviction and

a passionate intensity 

for the first time all year i hear

the kirkland bell tolling for me

im sweating and im swearing

that i'd stop caring

because these tools are to worn

to begin again

and why fight a battle

that you can't win

because things

fall

apart