• "Your Diaspora"

    Tonight, I blew you out of me.
    It was around six, and you were already
    building up in my lungs - attempting to retreat
    from the rather impressive make-shift you had sustained there
    over the past year.

    I could have waited another year,
    even further past your already invisible expiration date
    somewhere east of here,
    but that would have been harsh on you.

    So I walked down that hill,
    puckered my lips,
    and threw you to the pain-striken west
    already fading behind the assorted green
    rising above the pavement.

    As I returned to this perfect medium
    where I sit now,
    I laughed at you as you called for help
    from the wind
    already transporting your torment.