It sits in a cylinder of glass
Scents and smells
those of which I could
fall asleep to

The fragrance of a tangy,
full bloomed pumpkin
lying in the crusty leaves,
of the deceased tree

I descend into a deep trance
dreaming away,
that of an hourglass
depicts my time
of the unknown

In a sudden moment,
I hear a crack
sand spills on the pavement
of my illusion

I arise to find myself,
sliding across soaked tar
the only thing in my field
of vision, is smoke

I feel calm, as I embrace
my stains of disaster
as we move into the distance
the sound of sirens getting hoarse

Awaking once more
slumped in a white room
surrounding me is my family,
friends, and a heart monitor