the senses

I stumble through the intoxicating stench,
imploring me, dizzying me,
Breathing heavily, I slide my palm through
the thick dark layer blanketing the grass
like deep honey, sticking to me,
urging me to taste.
Reaching out, I feel the face of glass eyes,
open for the first time,
the dry white mouth begging me for relief
choking on the salted breath finally inhaled.
Smoke blinds and burns me, enveloping my mind,
the bitter sound of agony deafening me
and I turn away
as if to see light on my other side;
I grimace at this shadow
of what was once hope.
Shuddering, my face twisted,
I lay my head on the warm ground,
and quietly become engraved.