The Internal Climate: Heat, Noise, and the Drop

The air is hot,
The sun is shining.
The room’s so bright
I can’t see my time‑in.
When it’s not,
My life turns cold —
And when it burns,
It feels so old.
When you’re out,
You make it nice.
When you’re in,
It feels like ice.
When you go,
It turns so fast.
When you move,
You grow at last.

Make it hot, make it cool.
If it’s cool, step outside.
If it’s not, go get ice —
And when it’s hot, you drink that ice.
If the heat gets too much,
Step outside and feel that slow.
When it slows, step back in
And make your day feel less comfortable.

Feel the feel of that noise.
When you move, it moves with you.
When you don’t, the noise builds up —
And when it does, you move some more.
Fold away, fold me out.
When you fold, the fold falls out.
When the fold gets too heavy,
Make that fold one more time.

Make me known, make me feel.
Make the noise just stop and feel.
If it feels, then make it stop —
Because when it’s hot, you make it real.
When it drops, it makes you hot.
When it drops, your tummy rots.
When it drops, your head will hoop —
A spinning loop you never choose.
Make me wobble, make you mumble.
Make you humble, make you wonder.
When it drops, you’ll feel a lot —
More than you thought, more than you want.