The air conditioner is loud.
Not as loud as at his place, but louder than pleasant average noisemaking.
I am in a spiral.
I am stuck and I’m not fighting.
I might be needing.
Around me the world moves,
I only move my fingers.
The windows here are dark brown and thin,
There is a green bug outside that wants to get in.
Maybe it qualifies as a fly, but the green color defines the bugginess.
Two of my bikinis are hanging on the lamp shade,
They have created destroying wet outlines on the material.
My skin is terrible and erupting.
Other parts are equally critical.
I need something like a mosquito-stick
Something to stop the itching
But mostly just for placebo and sanity
The two best and worst things simultaneously.