weak    rise    scars    spent    breeze    lungs    spirit    eat    teeth    car    shine    nature    died    veins    neck    top    moving    sat   loves    dry

<>
the spent breeze rises up, moving,

****** into, ******* up air in our lungs
but yet still! the spirit weak,
the teeth useless chewing,
dry words mashing,
no eat, just pasty

the scars shine
like veins protruding from the top of a man’s neck,
looking like holes in a  rusted car that can’t never
shine no more,
once the breeze stops moving

he sat there while he slow died,
not moving,
nature and his loves
and his
skin slow dry texturized,
desiccating

done.

the spent breeze rises up, moving on...