Somnolent Sensibilities

Sluggish, startled but stationary,
auditory stimulation awakens.
Initially quiet, paper rustling in whispering breezes
gradually crescendos to symphonic cascades.
The metallic whistle of an artificial nightingale
gradually engulfed by the incessant beeping and buzzing.
Alarmed but incapable of freeing myself from immobility,
my senses extend.

Sulfuric but sweet
scents infiltrate my listless nostrils.
The tang of springtime after a summer storm
falls to the artifice of cloying perfume.
Honeyed ribbons of glutinous molasses
overwhelmed by provocative petrol.
My fingertips tremble in troubled trepidation.
My senses extend.

Soft and seductive,
a womb of grass cradles my body.
Muscular movement a Sisyphean strain
against the succulent warmth of the ground,
but heavy limbs frozen with the bite
of a slush saturated winter wind.
Lashes flutter as eyelids expose the darkness of light,
my senses extend.

Dark but illuminated,
the landscape burns itself onto my retina.
Neon verdigris of skylines violently clashing
against the dusty umber of long decaying sod.
Once resplendent brilliance of steel structures
reduced to oxidized rusting rot.
My lungs inflate and deflate to an ancient rhythm;
my senses mourn.

As blackness descends,
stealing my strengthened senses,
no doubt securing me in the sanctity
of a velvet duvet over plush sumptuous down,
the resplendence of my own reality returns.
It leaves me with an ingrained ominous premonition:
a sensory experience from beyond the stars?

No...a vision of home.



Originally written for Round 3 of "The Midnight Traveler's Contest" .  Poetry, 40 lines.  Prompt: You've been transported to a new world. Describe it and make me feel like I'm there.