Ominous by Sol Carrasco

Fog swallows the road,

Are these curves insanity spiraling? 

My path blurrs, disappearing rapidly.


Inhaling the aroma of rain,

New and rejuvenating

Won’t stop smothering me. 


Nothing but white,

Less transparent the higher we go.

If I reach my hand out would I still see it?


The burning of a cigarette

Releases that enticing smoke 

Finally letting me breathe.


The screws are lost,

Cold, puffy clouds will turn into walls.

“Don’t you just want to fling yourself into it?”