decoy

It was already morning,

a mournful and windless morning.

The foul-smelling vapor of my soul

hovered as I breathed

No sun light would come through it.

In the faint half-light of fog,

from the puddles of my being,

I realized the end was near:

the walls around me were looming violently.

Something muddy impregnated me,

there was no light that would save me.

My cold head fell over my chest.

It was too late: 

lights went out, I fell into this chaos.