Torment: Backpack

Responsibility's gravity finds its way upon my shoulders
(never mind the figurative, the literal sense
  is all that comes into question here)
sweat trickles,
miniscule Lovecraftian creatures turn their bite and sting
in my direction as I gasp.

Greedy lungs punished by an equally perverse lack of oxygen.

A constant assessment
-(the value of this toil)-
flits through my head and I quickly learn
that logic does not have its place in all things;

Staggering though opulent hills
in exquisite discomfort is theraputic
only in the most exhausting sense.