The world grows around me
and swallows my thoughts
producing a gas irreversibly
pushing my kind to foreshadow
extinction.
The dirt on the ground is my home
and I live there looking up -
artificial beings living on the highest pollution clouds of distorted souls.
Alone I walk, hunting for nurture.
My breath begins to stink of sin
and my limbs are crucified.
To bid myself goodnight,
my words tried to form a synopsis of my entire being.
And with that effort, I choked.
__________________
Bethany Louise Rose
18th June 2015
@ 6:36 pm
