In a slow
Crawl to envy
I grow parched
With hellish desire

For the precious zeal
Of fair and fine travelers
Ever-wafting
True to their breeze

In boyhood I simmer
Derailed by silence
Immobile
Unwilling
To lift my seething eyes

As I slouch
Into the palms of comfort
Taken by sloth
As desire
Slaves, beneath my skin