Smog

a short poem.

Smog rolls in, thick and yellow-grey
views are blocked, obscured,
water drips from a broken pipe
droplets roll inside,
down the walls,
down my cheek
so many of them,
forming a salty puddle at my feet
dampening wooden floorboards,
drowning the insects surrounding me.
Blood leaks from my nose,
sweat clings to me
shirt seemingly affixed to flesh,
an uncomfortable skin to shed.
Maybe I should open the window,
so I can choke some more.

My writing is free, though writing does take time, especially when balancing work and family life. If you wish to support my writing, I have a subscription option or if that’s not for you, there is also my ‘Buy Me A Tea’ feature, above, which all help to keep the words flowing.