Exhaling

[StanleyZ]

I'm not so sure about my punctuation here. I feel it is necessary, but it could be better.



All my problems are warm,

wet, and hollow

with oxygen exhaling

into disappearing mist,

as vapor from my blistered lips,

and I long for that extant moment

of an instance in existence

before dispersing into

cold, porous drips

like the chill of sweat

exalting from a fleshy mold.

I feel it's lustrous loss,

and I'm willing to be lost,

in the solution of the frost,

because all that warms me

wares me down to dust,

same as these vapors

ware the world to rust.