The only time I felt alive in an evening,
petrichor filled the yellowing air it
was still overcast but bright so bright
my skin paled in comparison
and I felt weak, smooth gasping
like a fish living and breathing
strange, wrong but full of desperate life;
everything was more intense
more intent on what purpose then I didn't know
but for one night only the stench of death
was lifted that now lingers still emanating
from my being, from my person stronger
than any perfume can hide.
I cling to the memory even as it slips away
as I recede into the future a revenant
no one killed me and no one knows I'm dead.
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