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Dry Heat
I am in deep need.
Parched.
As I continue this death march.
Desperate for water.
I drink the sweat that I perspire.
The sun lapping quickly at my sweat before me.
The sun being one hungry beast.
One desperate for a feast.
The dry sand dunes spins around in circles.
This is one wild vertigo.
Beautiful as gold.
This sand is not one gold to be sold.
Mirages are nightmares
that are not easily compared.
They haunt the mind
while keeping the eyes blind.
Losing awareness
of reality,
the sand swallows my mobility.
The heat wraps its warm hands around my neck
as the wind whispers, "You are a wreck."
-Snow that flutters down like feathers