it's my first ever narrative poem.
air can hurt you too - Talking Heads
I am a stinkbug,
shot from a cannon.
The world smells so empty,
monoxide and carbon.
Shards of my shell
litter the floor.
Upstream against nothing,
I use less as more.
Now my skin shows
its color: relief.
It lasts just one moment,
as it too flies free.
Am I a stinkbug?
My pieces dispersed.
I'm pulled to the sunset,
my heart's a bug's hurt.