Words Most Foul
Smoke that flows in wispy curls from parted lips offers images of romance, satisfaction, even nonchalance, perhaps, as if it has not already done its damage. It cannot reverse its path, pass over those lips to return the life it drew from every tiny cell it touched. It is toxic, in its very essence, and its bravado must not be ignored, nor forgotten. Words may be taken back, but their intent lingers with an air so foul that it cannot be mistaken for compassion.
Image: © Andrews McMeel Syndication (Rob Rogers, via Facebook)
rivrvlogr 
Terrifying prose poem for frightening times. Or the reverse. Frightening poem for terrifying prose times.
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Or both.
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So toxic. The world is swimming in it…(K)
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Yes, it is.
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Bravo…
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Thank you, Steve.
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My pleasure. Brilliant…
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Poison all around us.
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