Hill

A night’s pain rolls in my stomach
Rolls into my gut and my brain and head
All I want to do is sleep
But the gears are slipping and grinding
Loud irreparable and deep
Medicine doesn’t help maybe even made it worse
What can I do but breath
Breath until my breath reaches the deep
Blurs the noise just enough to see it
It is a hill and every hill has a summit
No matter how much it tries to rise forever

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Now Precedent Songs, Farewell“)