The scent of need a pilot light. Helicopters on a pad evacuating stranded souls. Clear the air of ceiling fans. Taverns full of smoking dreams. Lazy Boys of liberating, often yes commiserating, altogether urgent grabbing, holding observation tight.
Poetry is coral reefs and labeled diamonds by mistake.
Poetry is pumping blood and pouring corpses in a stream. Throwing Stones Opinionated agony. The swelling kind that's choking every reach I make. Burden's burden in itself. I hate the thought of passing this like stomach flus or chicken pox.