Retreat.

From the simmering of voices
From the battle in your head
From the heavy heat of Summer slowing seconds in his grasp.
Stifled by the crawling slump, which is altogether..
All too noisy.
A metaphor of a traffic jam.

Retreat to where its cooler.
For clarity is clear, like ice.
They say reality is harsh
But air-conditioning systems smell like bullshit.

I might go to Greenland.