Breathe Away

It’s just in my head

A race car revving its engine

And accelerating

acrid smoke going up my nose

and into my eyes

runaway time

No escape from the pressure

It’s a pressure cooker

on slow cook

tenderising my brain

making gravy out of thoughts

making films out of visions

Standing in line

normality is shattered

my heart thuds, my head hurts

in the calamity of Liszt

dreary dry roads exhaust smoke

rubber dust and smog

breathe away your purity

as the man-made pollutes

and makes your daisy a triangle

the grass is introspection

on a summers day

breathe away your purity

as age gets its way.


Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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