I can't shake it off,
The smudge and smog
That entire field of orange, yellow, and red dots
Around my my pulse strapped tight knots

A mirage of wondrous fabrics
Fabricated dense goose bumps
Or this instant of brief flicks
of putting myself in a stagnant lump

Yet I grow unsettling and raving hands
To move and continue
and wield that feeling
into times' ceaseless sands

When balmy ending waves to past
All that's left is to shower tears
To the azure day and star-bright dusk
and peer back,
into old harmonious muted years