It comes and goes like the fullness of the moon
The radiating darkness of night
The blinding brightness of the day
That sick, sick stench of death and decay
From the ground it sprouts, spits, twists and turns
Ever changing
Never pleased with the way it is
That sweet breeze of gentle air
Pushes it away
The piercing laugh of another lost soul
Struggling to find a place to rest her mind
Churning down the rocky river
Bashing off the roots of half submerged trees
Lost lost lost
Disoriented by time
Up is down
Left is right
Right is up and down.