In the thick of it all
Sits I in fog
Murky states for confusion sake
So dense
Can't really see the food on my plate
or the words you say as nurishment
Musky dust impeed this steed
steadfast but stumbling
The fogs defence questioned my purpose and its pertinence
I'm glutton, engulfing the smog contaminating my call
recoil into fetal ball acting all recluse
In the womb, I was flawless thence existed perfectly
A head of clutter dense
Sifting through for clues that make sense
Frollicking in dreary terrain aimless
on a search for maintenance
but found a fading oasis
My sub-journey: patience
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