exit sign

Sometimes I try writing poetry.

exit sign

the words rolling around
on my tongue taste bitter
so i spit them out
at you while you inhale

smoke of your unspoken
words curls upwards
past my chandelier,
towards the ceiling
where it might pop
against the abbrasive surface

no less abbrasive than i am,
you'd say
no less harmful

we should get down
on our hands and knees, now
avoid the smoke before it
ruins our lungs

under the thick ambiguity
we'll crawl towards the exit sign.