a meandering photoessay of the small beauties in life.
I smoke the weeds that grow up through
cracks in hot empty parking lots,
spew out their cremated corpses and breathe
life into ashy wastelands;
I watch their carbon chains deconstruct and
settle in my blackened lungs like a soft layer
of topsoil. Inside, I can feel the seeds
Bronchi; bronchioles; alveoli grow up and
out like trees gasping for sunlight.
Chemicals diffuse into my blood like
smokestacks into the pewter grey sky
and blood runs like dirty river water choked
by garbage and shit.
I am an imperfect ecosystem, polluted by
a confusion of overdeveloped neurons
like an invasive plant that gluts itself and
proliferates while all else dies.
Its roots tangle inside my brain and choke,
choke, choke, until all I am is
Parasite and host, impossibly entwined: I
push up through this concrete towards
Theme by Lauren Ashpole