It’s so long since I’ve written, now I try to start the process, I’ve begun to poison myself. 

The feeling is coming from my aromatherapy diffuser. It sits in the background of my Zoom calls and dowses my carnivorous plants in rainwater and eucalyptus daily.

Not only does the humidity look after the plants, the smell of eucalyptus is a signifier – it sets the stage to work. The smell familiar, clinical and inspires a new environment within the known. It cleanses both breaths and thoughts in the pandemic scene.

In my desperation to write, to produce something, I’ve tried too hard. 

I’ve become over generous, wanted the setting to do the work and now I’m choking on eucalyptus. 

The vapour sucking oxygen, is taking my brain and sucking that too.

I cannot think, I also cannot see. 

I feel for a window, I open it.

Clear the air.

Body begin again.