The far deep
Unrevealed crevices
Of my frame, encounter
Sweltering flames, entangled
In dense foliage, amidst
Settled gleaming surface
With the supposed untoward and
Undesired thread like strands.

Swirly and misty,
It seek my senses
Leaving me high on my natural scent
Until I regain my true self.
To which my inner self exclaimed
With disdain evident in (they) voice
True self!
Are you not?
Not you in those moments of glory
Rooted like an onion
Onion with layers…
Shredding a lifetime in every minute?

Baffled, she wants to speak
But the pursed lips
Leaves her mute
But her senses alive
Alas! the moist of the speck
Like a well wet soil
Leaves a captive chained
With bated breath.