Redolence

I can feel

My neurons blackening.

Smoking

As if they were incense,

The haze

Wafting toward the ceiling

Of my quiet room.

The burn is silent,

But it seethes

As pieces of myself

Crumble into a tray

Like sandalwood

And resin does,

And I shrink into

The floral scent

Of my own ashes.