The Fog

Everything is invisible.
Everywhere are foes.
Every swallow of air
Sounds with gurgling.
The fear 
Squeezes 
Mediastinum
And the heart 
Shrinks in 
The chest
As a puppy in a kennel
Escaping from a slaughterer.
It’s
Beating hard
And waiting for 
The sign 
To attack.
The tongue licks 
The dry lips 
The flare gun should 
Shoot 
The green.
And pavor stream will
Spread and 
Get the whole. 
Winner will be who
Outfight own dread
In spite of that.