Thick clouds of acid air wraps around my throat,
pulls at the innocent hairs of my nostrils, and drains the fresh scent out
from the pathway of my lungs as I hop-scotch to each pavement.
The fortress built for my nose grows weak with every soldier of fresh scent down, due to the 4,000 chemical weight of this potent smell uprooting the entrance of the fort.
The wind continues to act against me as it blows more acetone, the very thing I remove the paint from my nails with into the airway of my lungs, ignoring my cry to be alive.
I hop-scotch to each pavement as more exhales full of ammonia refuse to clean the fluids around my body, but pollute my ability to breathe.
Another one lighted, held firm to the lips releases arsenic, used in insecticides, debasing my form of existence to that of an insect, killing the unborn eggs in my ovaries as I hop-scotch to the next pavement on my left.
I picture my ovaries shrinking, becoming inactive, and turning black like tar.
And soon, 70 percent of this tar leeches itself to the core of my female reproductive system, dosing detrimental increments into the brains of my future children.
I hop-scotch faster to get away from the highly poisonous cadmium, a metal used in batteries as my ears become dead to sound.
Cadmium does not start the battery of my heart, it encrypts the hardware system of my soul to a code unknown to the cells of my body, and instructs cyanide to poison more and more of me.
pulls at the innocent hairs of my nostrils, and drains the fresh scent out
from the pathway of my lungs as I hop-scotch to each pavement.
The fortress built for my nose grows weak with every soldier of fresh scent down, due to the 4,000 chemical weight of this potent smell uprooting the entrance of the fort.
The wind continues to act against me as it blows more acetone, the very thing I remove the paint from my nails with into the airway of my lungs, ignoring my cry to be alive.
I hop-scotch to each pavement as more exhales full of ammonia refuse to clean the fluids around my body, but pollute my ability to breathe.
Another one lighted, held firm to the lips releases arsenic, used in insecticides, debasing my form of existence to that of an insect, killing the unborn eggs in my ovaries as I hop-scotch to the next pavement on my left.
I picture my ovaries shrinking, becoming inactive, and turning black like tar.
And soon, 70 percent of this tar leeches itself to the core of my female reproductive system, dosing detrimental increments into the brains of my future children.
I hop-scotch faster to get away from the highly poisonous cadmium, a metal used in batteries as my ears become dead to sound.
Cadmium does not start the battery of my heart, it encrypts the hardware system of my soul to a code unknown to the cells of my body, and instructs cyanide to poison more and more of me.
I force myself to drink fresh water.
I want my cells to have more energy, but the liquid tastes nothing like H2O.
It's already polluted with benzene, a solvent in fuel and chemical production.
This substance lurks for the neurons leading to my buds and ruptures them with a devilish smile.
I try to hop-scotch faster, trying to escape from all the lighters, all the firm lips
but I'm in a dead-end zone, trapped already feeling like a corpse.
I look at my once glowing skin and see imprints of formaldehyde,
used to preserve dead bodies working hastily on mine.
I try to clean my ugly wounds with alcohol, but all I've done was make
shellac wood varnish come alive on each deteriorating part of me.
My voice diminishes to a whisper, the last breath I inhale is my greatest enemy,
carbon monoxide.
Its odorless, tasteless and poisonous gas makes breathing impossible as it
combines with every red blood cell of me, who desperately fights to carry that last bit of oxygen to the fruits of my organs.
By now my blood has surpassed the 15 percent mark of a smoker's blood content.
My heartbeat immediately comes to an impending stop, covered in horrific toxins.
I'm a dead object floating in the Great second-hand smoke trash patch,
swirling and swirling until I'm no longer visible to the naked eye, to the bird's eye,
and the sheep's eye.
No longer able to breathe, I am dead to the air.
-Arnelle W.
I want my cells to have more energy, but the liquid tastes nothing like H2O.
It's already polluted with benzene, a solvent in fuel and chemical production.
This substance lurks for the neurons leading to my buds and ruptures them with a devilish smile.
I try to hop-scotch faster, trying to escape from all the lighters, all the firm lips
but I'm in a dead-end zone, trapped already feeling like a corpse.
I look at my once glowing skin and see imprints of formaldehyde,
used to preserve dead bodies working hastily on mine.
I try to clean my ugly wounds with alcohol, but all I've done was make
shellac wood varnish come alive on each deteriorating part of me.
My voice diminishes to a whisper, the last breath I inhale is my greatest enemy,
carbon monoxide.
Its odorless, tasteless and poisonous gas makes breathing impossible as it
combines with every red blood cell of me, who desperately fights to carry that last bit of oxygen to the fruits of my organs.
By now my blood has surpassed the 15 percent mark of a smoker's blood content.
My heartbeat immediately comes to an impending stop, covered in horrific toxins.
I'm a dead object floating in the Great second-hand smoke trash patch,
swirling and swirling until I'm no longer visible to the naked eye, to the bird's eye,
and the sheep's eye.
No longer able to breathe, I am dead to the air.
-Arnelle W.
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