Shaded grey bricks
damp
with mold
grime
old dirt
mixed with
leftover pieces
of
dead
bugs.
Hollow drops
break
the silence
between
breaths
as they land
on the cold
rock
surface
beneath
my
bare feet.
Each step
makes a distinct
slap
on the slightly
slimy stone –
not enough to slip on
just almost,
not quite,
but nearly.
Nowhere to grasp.
Every grip
is lost
s
l
i
d
e
s
and my knee
hip
elbow
slam
into the hard ground
as the high-pitched agony
pushes
its way out
without
my consent.
All available air
exhaled
as my face
scrunches
in a silent
scream
and I
punch
my fist
into a damp brick,
blood
slowly
mixing
with the grimy
grey
decay.