I Walk

I walk,

head down.

I hear a ding of a small tower,

the black air fills my lungs,

the bong kicks my step around the corner

as the view becomes no longer.

The crook of my nose,

the point of my toes,

stagger hell bent,

as the sweat drips from my lips,

red.

Staring,

Wondering.

I move forward,

breathing slower,

as my vision turns purple.

Grabbing at the brownstone,

I hurl.

The heat now growing colder,

the clammy settling between my fingers,

and the teal polish from my tips,

chips away from the strange,

orange being that became,

my enemy.

I clutch at my side.

My green sick soaked through,

the gray cloth I once knew,

as I look around pale.

I walk,

head down.

The black air fills my lungs,

my silver hair falls.

The revolution has begun.