Spice

The scent fills the air like a thick fog,

Sunlight filters down to the ground,

Particles gently float in and out of view,

The spice surrounds as they pound,

The sound makes my heartbeat quicken,

Aligning with the beat of the machines,

Senses awaken in the crescendo of impulses,

Overwhelmed by these alien scenes.

This arid and harsh sand blasted landscape,

Without shelter from the searing heat,

Contains the priceless spice lying on the sand,

Waiting for the harvesting to complete.

This addictive substance is glistening out,

Calling me towards it like a siren’s song,

Making me forget the dangers of the desert,

Forgetting what could go seriously wrong.

The spice is all consuming and dangerous,

For addicted users and suppliers alike,

It controls life and death within the sands,

One smell and you can’t avoid it’s strike.

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