Blowing away anything
That dares stand in it’s path
With a force that would uproot trees

A sound can be heard
For miles around
Like two foul sides of beef slapping together

The wind has been broken
And a scent like rotten eggs and old broccoli
Can be smelled with burning intensity

The smell that can peel wallpaper
Make milk curdle
And make grown men weep

I turn a little red as they turn to me
And I make a note;
I need to stop eating microwave burritos before I kill someone