My mind is full of sand.
Each thought is a grain,
all hot and everywhere.
I can't seem to clean it up, the sand slips through my fingers each time I try.
It scatters each time I struggle to mold it into some form of a shape, into something that makes sense.
I feel heavy because there are so many thoughts filling the hourglass that is my head.
So many grains that stick to my skin and tangle into my hair while the rest fall away.
I can't get rid of it, yet at the same time it falls through my grasp.
My mountain of sand is sofficating me, burying me alive.
