Something has changed the sounds out here.
They phase out and then reappear
like vagabonds in the frontier.

Breath itself, a labored chore
an anchor pulled across the sea floor
not wanting to move anymore
though unable to interfere

Wayward eyes will find no relief
lost amongst the constant mischief
the world apt to abuse belief
real and absurd defined ‘unclear.’

The smell of the place reaches deep
like a fog over the throat that creeps
finding fetid remains to reap
the scent of one’s end always near.

You can feel the hostility
hidden like electricity,
tangible curiosity,
tamed only when engineered

Senses reel back from the attack
all becoming abstracts or black
flesh hacked away by well-aimed flack
the mind, a shattered chandelier.

Darkness then takes you by the hand
drags you out before that big band
desperate teeth pushing words through wasteland
“There is nothing for us to fear!”