The abstract tendencies of the mind,
Form craters beyond fulfillment
Not able to see behind, not able to see inside
But the only way to know is to confirm the dryness of my skin

I think the ora I once had has deteriorated
Leaving me nothing but scraps and waste
I believe myself to be non-complacent,
But I'm struggling

Craving to shed this shell and be one with the polluted sky,
Already filled with the unwanted remains of hollow souls
I'll scratch at the molten areas of my pores, hoping to create a hole big enough to escape from

I've introduced myself as fog,
Wavering in thickness

I wonder if you'd let me, if I shared my thoughts…

© Marah Schneider