Fleeting images fill the spaces between my fingers
Gazing down by my filthy feet
Tracks of a repeated past linger
In an oasis that used to be so sweet.

Revisiting a plastic path where I no longer need maps
Sinking and shrinking deeper into empty prints
Locking my monotone mind in a sandy trap
In years past, the grinding grip caused me to wince.

Bending down as I tire from walking for hours
I bring my malnourished mouth down by
The oasis praying the water would empower
My dehydrated heart but all I taste is salty.

Hands and knees buried in scaly salt
I peer towards the humbled horizon
Viewing a trench of foot steps contained within circles
Never wavering even at the sound of the oasis sirens

There I think against the sirens screech
Moving my feet won't cause a different scene.
My steps will repaint a new realm besides the circle
Only causing a filtered copy of the shape besides it.

My eyes still kept on the line that breaks the sky
I gulp down gallons from the oasis' shore line
I feel the salt layer my bones and I sink into a shifty
Sleep. Reawaking in a place where my feet are disillusioned as clean.