Traumatically Windblown

Psychosis carried in the gales,
for I am surely windblown,
windward from my own psyche,
where boundaries of reality have eroded.

With concealed hands,
a nonvisual hallucination caresses
the encasement of my soul,
provoking verbal responses.

Nothingness which wreathes around me,
a curve in a state of nonexistence
meandering around my body.
The compass of my soul spins.

Following the scent of nothing,
I steer into my own deception -
into an opaque fog,
distorting my perception.

Blind to this lightless entity -
blind itself to me.
I can now see the unknown,
camouflaged into what I hallucinate.