downtempo in the phoenix city

the champaign bubbles of life when I'm choking with tears and breath
the air the air the air
sometimes I lose my habit of exhalation, that's when I put a shell from my hands to my mouth, reducing the amount of the inhaled life, finally, I stop choking.
I wash down my chocolate cigarettes with the lemon balm and lavender tea.
two years ago at this time of year something broke, too, and bent steeply downwards. I took my summer exams in half-sleep, doped after the paroxetine. now I don't live at the Joli Bord any more, now it's the tarry, hot city center. with a blond girl still living next door, but now a different one, a dyed one, one more prone to cooperation, not on the level I'm likely to cooperate with her, though.
so,
I daydream of a one-room apartment. does anybody feel like sparing me 1500 PLN a month?
today, when people talked to me, the tension in my head opened a straight way to madness. it was like a fresh tablecloth, white bread and sobriety when all I need is night, martini and dancing till I sweat like a pig.
I need a healing micro-world, a herbal comfort in a blissful state of mind two meters over the ground, I need some chamomile on my eyes, some lemon balm on my tongue, some cannabis on my brain.
I need it to be quiet and clean, I want this hotchpotch of scraps, the leftovers, the broken sentences, the unfinished thoughts, to go down at once.
I sleep naked in the embryonic position, I wait and I believe that this Spring solstice will finally rumble through the time and space somewhere high above, beyond our awareness, without the active role of the city's forces - grease - muscles, till I wake up, get up, put my favorite gray sneakers on, go out, walk down the street, feel lightly to be moving, without the sense of guilt, without the sadness laying heavy deep inside my head; I'll walk alone, but knowing there are the best people ever within my reach - sight - capabilities. and I'll be able to exhale, without the grief, without the chopped feeling of a loss.