Chilling Fragrance

In shadowy realms of thought and dream,

Where senses rule in a macabre scheme,

My spirit roams, a restless thing,

Awakened by the senses' sting.

The taste of fear, on trembling lips,

A bitter nectar, that the soul sips,

It grips the heart, with icy hold,

A flavor, that the senses unfold.

The scent of death, it fills the air,

A fragrance, that none can bear,

It lingers long, in haunted halls,

A ghostly presence, that enthralls.

The touch of cold, on flesh so pale,

A sensation, that the senses assail,

It chills the bones, and numbs the skin,

A feeling, that the senses begin.

The sound of silence, it whispers dread,

A hush that echoes, inside the head,

It drowns out all, in eerie tones,

A symphony, of the senses' moans.

In every sense, a horror waits,

A phantom that the mind creates,

A fear that thrives, on senses keen,

In this world, a surreal scene.