Plastic bottle lungs wheezed under rattles o’ nettles
along with the dusty breath o’ old sleepers underneath our feet
scuffin’ our lungs as we headed forlorn into the gapin’ maw of sorrows feat.
The gaps in our teeth whistled our rush
The air was terminal, a yawnin’ chasm o’ our fill
as the day gasped its final hush
And then we felt it, the jolt beneath our feet
Then came the chuggin’ o’ steel and sparks
a ghost train hauntin’ us with its owlish hoots
Steamrolling the breath perched in our lungs
our breath that held us tight in our hidebound chests
Exhalation felt like another absence
a truancy that staked our hearts as rebels
Ameneurosis
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 
Matt, this one feels like it breathes with its own rasp — those “plastic bottle lungs” image especially sticks with me. There’s a gritty, ghost-train rhythm here that pulled me right along.
Much love,
David
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. Thought I had already replied but I’d just put a regular comment instead. I’m glad the breathiness of the writing came through, I was aiming fot that. Along with the idea of the gaps in life often taken in with a breath and a sigh
LikeLiked by 1 person
*applause!*
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have an obsession with the sound of bottles when they rattle and sometimes sigh as they expel air lol. Its a sound that irritates me and fascinates me in equal measure. Not sure exactly why. I just know the sound reminds me of my own breathing and my own depressive brain + autistic stim of perpetually sighing lol 😆
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wish I’d chosen this word! toot toot! This is great, Matt! 👏
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLike
First of all, what a great word choice- I am in love with how you gave the gaps breath- that was really a very inspired way to bring this word home.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks! And thanks for the prompt. Will be looking at the obscure sorrows dictionary often i think
LikeLiked by 1 person
Captivating poetry.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person