I am constantly inconstant,

Like a day that witnesses

Every season in its 24 hour breath.

My nerves are fire on the inside

Yet cool to the touch, like a fire

Trapped in a fireplace, behind thick bricks.

I am never aware of what I will be

Until my eyes shut tight on their own,

And I see what sits beneath,

Like digging for gold

And finding a flooding river

Which pours out from the crack.