Break our bones in half

It smells like dust and fire here.  It smells like West.  I walk outside in the mornings and breathe thin air.  My morning jog is terrible, but I suffer through.  The weak air is never enough.  I am never satisfied.  Like usual.    

rubber and asphalt

My skin is burned and cracked.  Last night my steamroller and I turned my lungs inside out, which took a lot less effort than I remember.  There was electricity in the air, which happens on occasion.  At that moment, I was exactly where I was meant to be.     

The sun rises late and sets early.  That bothers me.  I do not miss the shithawks calling my name all night.  Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night disoriented and wonder which direction the bathroom is.  I always find it.  

New digs.  The black cloud.