Have you had a day
where you’re filled with
wild green energy
and you just have to
do something with it
before it hiccups through
your pores and hair?
Today was like that, with mist pulled
around snug, like a silencer on
the world’s nerve to speak.

And the people said the fog was
scary, creepy like a bad horror film,
posted pictures of it online like
some bad 7th grade
party from 3 years ago.
I didn’t see it though,
I was so wrapped up in
my own ****.
Finally I got up and walked
around campus, to walk off
feelings of unrequited infatuation
and restless rejection.

At first all I saw was
murk around bare brown trees
as I imagined skeevy
yellow leers around the corners.
I turned up the pulsing purple
music clenched in my fist
and closed my eyes to block out it all.

After the fifth sappy song
I looked around and smelled
the mist move in,
looked up and watched
the fog fall down,
heard the street lamps buzz hungrily
saw their lights bleed into the haze
like a sluggish future scar.

The fog was so lonely,
so desperate for attention
it was ******* away
a night light’s only defense
against bedtime boogie men.
All the while I had wandered
the mist had been there
wanting me, shielding me from others
craving my breath that tickled it’s
jaded, gray overcast.
The clouds had pulled away
from the heavens to be
with us mere mortals
and all we did was **** them.

I stood for a moment in shame
and let the mist work it’s way
through me hair, gently.
I fished my selfish, pale hands from
my pockets and let the fog
chill them with vapory laugh.
I breathed in more deeply
letting the mist know that I
was sorry that I had not noticed
it sooner.