Humidity by Ian Copestick

Brit Grit, Ian Copestick, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

Earlier as I was walking, the air
Was so thick it felt like trying to
Breathe through a bandanna
That had been soaked in warm
Sweat. Someone else’s sweat
At that. I was finding it difficult
To  breathe. I was starting to
Worry if I was going to have a
Heart attack or another stroke.
The lightning has just started
And thank God for that. I now
Know that it’s the weather and
Nothing more than that.
At least I hope it’s nothing More than that.
Bring on the storm !
Come on, let the fucker go !
We need some fresh air
Around here!
This feeling in the air is awful.
It feels like it’s already been
Used loads of times, by dirty
People with filthy breath.
Let the rain pour !
Let the lightning bolt strike !
Let the thunder boom !
Let the world end !
As long as things feel better !