The weather is foggy
because the bog bleeds
like my problems lofty
making things foggy.
These problems haunt me
when the forecast is foggy.
I start to become not me
after my reflection lost me
in this hellish hot spring
where the fog is accosting
my vision’s focus and locking
until I absolutely cannot see
through this mist so foggy
my brain gets groggy
with the pain I’m dodging
blasting through the fog feed
making this innocent dog bleed
under the leaves of God’s tree
the same tree that made God leave
where an apple made things foggy.