Stale breath

I

Stand

And try not to breathe-in

The stale

exhalation

that,

Smells like

Death

From

Tired mouth-breathing giant.

 

Fumes

of travel,

Confined space

and

coffee

coated tongue.

 

Repeated phrases

so

resonant

In my mind

That I am willing

to bang my head

Against the wall

to stop them.

 

Trapped,

on the cusp

of liberation

but

Still,

The occasional,

Intermittent

Aroma

of corpses.

andrea patrie

Published by rodkersh1948

Trying to understand the world, one emotion at a time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: