February 19, 2014 § Leave a comment
I love the aroma
and the way it forms clouds
from a roll of paper,
when on the inside it is but a rotten forest
with the way our tongues articulate words
and the way our eyes encompass passion,
when on the inside we are anything but that.
I try to stop coughing at the site of acid rain
as it reaches for my lungs
but I cough
at the sound of your nonsense,
because you have set a nest in my throat
a home for yourself
when I spoke in your language
and engulfed the poison you spit,
so I swallow hot coffee
as it burns my larynx
to wash away the ashes you left in them,
and destroy your presence.
your words are like the smoke.
They appear beautiful
like your exterior, when inmost
you’ve killed a thousand people.