The Man Circling Around Thick Air

Heavy turbulence makes you shift, makes you turn, makes you twist...and I twirl with my eyes fixed to the thick dust watering my eyes until they are filled and overwhelmed. I cannot see further for my sight is now despicable and unreliable. But I still circle in an infinite loop until I lose all meaning, all objectives, in a vortex spinning round across the fruitless land. I circle with strength, with heat transpiring through thick tissue, through run-down veins, as the sweat suddenly freezes and stands still. My eyes still fixed. My position now static in the eye of the tornado. My life around the pillar of thick air I will form each day, inconsistent, un-built, like a presence in a town of ghosts, following the direction of the wind and then slowly dissipating as I come to a stand-still. For I circle around with no intention to move forward, move on, and change the stale air falling heavily on my shoulders, my lungs, and my being altogether.