do you feel what i feel

it sounds like sirens

piercing, high

bleeding ears, the storm

before the deadly calm

of silence.

it tastes like dryness

like iron, permeating through

parched taste buds

stinging every inch of

icy exposed skin.

it smells like air

clear, bitingly fresh

whistling painfully through

noses and mouths

too much --

     can't breath.

it feels like prickles

spikes of brush, hard

unrelenting, inflexible

tracing painfully

over hands and knees,

blood rivulets thin

streaming down.

and the sight, oh

cruel, it is cruel

there is no blood

or prickles, or sirens

or rusted iron chains.

there is a white wall

clear, blank in its fury

waited to be painted

with the colors of 

the right, the wrong

the brave,

the dead.

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bonus - comment what you think this is