You passed through security at the airport terminal with an air of impassivity, never looking back. The air swallowed you. The breezes were made by turbines whirring and laden with carbon. Nothing about it felt organic. The carbon was inert, could not combine.
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
You passed through security at the airport terminal with an air of impassivity, never looking back. The air swallowed you. The breezes were made by turbines whirring and laden with carbon. Nothing about it felt organic. The carbon was inert, could not combine.