10 Minute Write

But what about?
Perhaps the chance to be devout to clouds.
Though the blank blue sky will draw no eyes.
On this day of swirling news with mixed reviews.
 
The only clouds that linger are held by my nicotine fingers.
Oh, how i hate the rhyming of those two words.
Too commonly used.
Too poetically abused.
Like "ground" to "down", yes we get it.
 
So as my mind sifts blank, it matches the day, at least in the ever changing painting above.
No strokes of any brushes, as only the wind rushes, as with the ever changing volumn of my lungs.
 
Inhaling tobacco, from the hourglass of this cigarette, that measures when my free time is up.
As i choke on the words i claim i can't find, as time passes by in a rush.
 
Never enough.
Seems time i posture,
Deal with the exhauster,
And get over my slump.
 
Thank you blue sky, that i still love.