Down wind

And what is this?
It gives, it gets
Off. On.
What gives?

Is this
All there is?
Or is the more buried
Deep,
Hidden in the depth
Of the danger
Of the black
Of the shit?

Smelled like safe to me.
Then again,
My nose is too quick
To ever trust 
What that must be like.

I swim
Barely in, almost down.
Wind.
Blowing fast
On flames that feed
Off the many dreams
I used to, foolish,
Feed them with.