November Haze

Tuscan skies hover over like a blanket

They smell of salt and soot and yell when the wind aggravates

I find shelter within the cold November evening

When the city is hazy at 7pm on a Wednesday night

When the Blueline only makes me feel more blue

Bluer than drowsy grainy days where my sight goes foggy and not even filters could make me look at myself in the mirror

Bare shoulders once I get home

Close the door behind me

The ride over was dull and long and weighed me down like a dead body with a boulder tied to it

Further down into the depths of the sea

Wander through the skeletal house I could never call home

Home is where your heart is well fuck you

My heart has been lost in the void since it beat so fast it travelled up into my throat I had trouble not gagging

I look into the mirror in the hall

First time I’ve seen myself today

It’s been a while old friend

The sight of my warped bruised purple black blue purple black blue face

Face

Face

Face

My face

The sight of my vessel, my exhausted vessel

Broken down deteriorated by office air that has been filtered through my lungs at least a thousand times and black coffee that has stained my teeth

At least I’m not a meth head