Now I’m seeing sculptures. Now I’m hearing airplanes. Now I’m scratching itches I can reach. The summer seems too far away. The winter will not leave. Stress adds to the fray. Stress whittles away the day. Stress sews a net and it flutters around your neck. It tangles up your steps. It destroys all hope of sex. It guarantees an audience of boring people. It eliminates opportunity. It eradicates creativity. It hampers objectivity and punctures your credulity. It is pining for relief. It is hoping for freedom. Now I’m hearing airplanes. Now I’m seeing sculptures. Now I’m breathing deeply. One Breath, two breath, three….