Cigarettes litter these streets like grass and trash,
Dutch Pall Mall and Marlboro Lights.
Tobacco that fills the manufactured air-
wafting through my window.
Second-hand smoke-
as if I had a choice not to be addicted-
Walls that smell like shit-
and why not? We're all
human.
Born out of filth, into filth.
Pick up once in a while,
Or I'll Febreze you-douse the world in
perfume.
Is that a bin?
Oh, no, that's just my doorway.
Please. Leave your addiction.
Smoking like there's no personal control-
Forced, like a whale that spouts smoke.
(and to think-
this city could have been beautiful.)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment