I was attracted to the lemony scent:
The tinge in the air made me moth-like as I was drawn
To the flame of another world, battling my wings
In the hollow shell of despair; but my plan was flawed.

I collided with bluish curtains, nowhere near the lemons,
Only a sickening turquoise mocking the inner depths of
My being. I felt taunted by the drapes, the pleats,
The entire design forming a tapestry of deafening roars.

That was when the lemony scent was replaced by
The smoky smell of death, choking my surroundings,
I couldn’t recognise the mouldy corpse lying beside me,
Until I realised they were the ashes of my foregone dreams
Blowing in the ominous wind, revealing buried secrets
Beyond my understanding, beyond anything real I could fathom.

The curtains lifted, giving me hope that I would
Be stirred from this waking dream, but here I was,
Limpid, exposed to more horrors, being engulfed in
A quicksand of my innermost turbulences.

Swirling around, I myself was puzzled by the inventions
Brought forward by my mind; the thoughts that pricked me
From inside, I tried to cling to the blue curtains now
Unreachable, and my abhorrence for them grew

As I had no other possibility to escape, except perhaps
Don the garb of the troubled philosopher I had wrapped
Myself in, but my own demented self had found its comfort;
And I knew, no matter how I tried, I would not change.

So, quietly, resigned to my own fate, I drop down
The blue curtains and let the quicksand overcome me.

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