You are eclipsed with the formless grey,
Inhaling anticipations through senses,
You exhale the poison from your deflated lungs—
The parasite that seeks the truth.
Wreathing in pain without its magical potion,
The blinding light, a luminescence higher,
Where you stray from the roads
Less traveled into the barren.
Throats dry with stale,
Taste of delusional hunger,
Lingers on your mouth like oasis.
The misshapen reality above you,
Oblivious and metal,
Drips in the formless grey,
Until you are drenched in anticipation,
Ready to sniff in one more time.
© Jumbled Letters 2018.