The essence of the thing stimulated:
Fog; Nothingness; Self,
a vortex of spinning grey.
Time stalled, backtracked, leapt forward,
my eyes uncomprehending
of what other senses detailed.
I dizzied and derailed,
former bluster extinguished;
I was lost.
Purgatory calling, claimed the mist,
and it was, and it did, and it took all of me
even my smile.