I'm on the edge of my mattress caught in the thick heat

I admire the dust floating slow

Through the only ray of light that broke through the blinds

I would like to be dust in the spring heat 

With no conscience, no problems

But with that comes no life 

Do I want to be dead? 

The longer I sit the more the whirr of the fan sounds like my mama's voice

Same tone, same rhythm

She's almost there

Spinning sentences

Gracing the hazy atmosphere 

The longer I listen to this hum that I know is not my mama's voice

The more my eyes well up

I turn the fan off and give in to the suffocating warmth

It's too much but I find my place in it

If I knew I were to die tomorrow 

I would go on a walk, full watering can in hand

Pouring water onto every spot in the ground

Where the grass is yellowed and the earth is painfully dry

Watching it soak up what it has longed for

When my water runs out I would fill my watering can up and do it over and over...

No amount of water will keep me from withering so

I succumb to the letting go of my resources

I no longer have a rightful greed to what kept me alive

May I give myself back to the Earth that has made me

May I be forever unafraid to open the floodgates

May my currents wash through the thick heat

Over and over until I am no longer 

written by Anna Gracheva | @boiledeggsonyourdoorstep

Fritz photographed by Gabe Hernandez.

Gabe Hernandez | @gabeovr Fritz | @howfritz

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