An immigrant took our
                                    jobs.
        
                   I never saw it..  
  But It gave me a cough..

I'm so lit
you get a fake tan
             of my words.

                          But there so fake  
that it washes of quickly...

Woeful glazes sitting idle  
                       for is one meant to be burdening  another,
And when the idleness
                          breaks free then all shall falter

The smell of sulphate,
            emanating from that
accursed thing, its aura glistened,
                  seemingly smouldering .

But when the  breath of life
                    died beneath sunset,
A Spector of ill conceived retention
                                             contemplated.



Daybreak was mutilated upon the sight.
                                            established placidity..

An avalanche of empathy
             dislodged
covering me in suffocating
                                realisation.

That I wasn't the mountain,
       more the snow.
               Soft and delicate,
   sentiment never compacted enough.