The air is bankrupt.

What people feel always becomes palatable and understandable in the air. Okay, so a given group of people are speaking of hope and believing in it, but these people, as they spit h-o-p-e out of their mouth they are truly scared.

Scared of losing. Scared of a false hope. Scared of no change, and, of course, scared that if it all goes to hell faster than a bullet they can't give up and not care.

I am not a decider. So, this season is nothing more than a time to let my mind wander more, but I am choking on this air. No matter where I go the air comes up to me, bully-like in a way that makes me take some steps back. I end up penetrated by the air, all force with no romance.

"You hear about that business up the road that went under," a voice asks as I fall to the ground.

I clench my chest, grasping for a breath with no weight on the bottom. " I just saw on the news that another company shut down," another voice says in my direction.

Then like a choir from some kind of gospel video directed by Prince a hundred voices fill the space around me.

"We are all damned because of the other side." Their voices echo.

"I'd kill you all for some white noise," I mutter under my fading voice.

No one hears me. The voices adjust the buttons on their jackets and the air gets heavier.