Torment

Tonight my torment is not existential. Tonight my torment is whatever is making my allergies so dreadful.

Wordless

It's not often that I feel this incapable of coupling one word to another. Maybe the intensity of yesterday's coupling exhausted my reserves. Or maybe it's just the inversion layer that has me remembering those bad air days in California. I'd write more about my resistance to writing, but every sentence I put down makes me recoil in horror. Do I have to use the word "maybe" like that? Where are my action verbs? Can I critique myself without resorting to a series of rhetorical questions?