Smoke trails up into the air
Sticky with the scent of
Vanilla and stale cigarettes
That stings my nose.
My shirt sticks to my back
and the sweat collects in my hair.
I swirl hot tea in my mouth
Vanilla creamer
Softening the bitterness of the tea.
My mind clouds with the words of
Aeschylus
Running in and around each other
I cannot make sense of any of it.
My head aches
from the smoke
and the stress
And I just want to stop.
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 12:47 AM UTC
Smoke trails up into the air
Sticky with the scent of
Vanilla and stale cigarettes
That stings my nose.
My shirt sticks to my back
and the sweat collects in my hair.
I swirl hot tea in my mouth
Vanilla creamer
Softening the bitterness of the tea.
My mind clouds with the words of
Aeschylus
Running in and around each other
I cannot make sense of any of it.
My head aches
from the smoke
and the stress
And I just want to stop.
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