poetman0902
Poison coming out of the air into the lungs of the people through cigarettes and carbon manoxide pollutaints,
Make my brain itch and my hand search for a stratch,
But I restrain and pull that hand back and put it back and put it back in my pocket,
I walk down the desolate road, baren and empty like a ghost town picked clean,
I finally gasp and hold my throat in pain and fall forward my face in the dust.
writing since 2011 · 1 entries · 1 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means John showed up.
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the words John reaches for
handpoisoncomingairlungscigarettescarbonmanoxidepollutaintsbrainitchsearchstratchrestrainpullpocket