Wash The Bowl

It gnaws at me, the stagnant air. And I chew at it, hoping to lessen it’s weight pressing upon me, surrounding me, scrubbing my unconsciousness sores till even casual onlookers can see resentment tattooed on my face. And believe me they’re looking, some even ogling as I pass by on my walk, to I don’t ... Read moreConcrete Stagnant Air