The Scent of Nostalgics

The other day there was a cerain smell, that took me to a time I don’t often tell. I did some things, myself unforgiving, knowing there was a piece of me missing. Every night I would kneel and pray, asking for a much simpilar way. They made me believe the things they said, and I couldn’t get the words out of my head. It was years ago, I couldn’t breath in a driveway where my world began to spin. Flashes of lights and people's faces, Everything moving at slow paces. I woke up in a small hospital bed, the sheets pithy, pillow under my head. I was dressed in an uncomfortable gown, Hiding the self hate from the knees down. Alone I cried in a darkening room, In the inescapable coldening gloom. The redolence of the Idoform Did nothing but stir the internal storm. The next few days were nothing but hazy, people coming, saying I was crazy. Assuredly, they brought my health back, but after that, the train was off it’s tracks. Interchangable with the other eight, I must have a more important fate. The flashback ended, I’m in present day, in math class, my problems at bay. It’s funny how smells revive the past, taking you back to a memory aghast, Like the aroma of a hospital bed, the night I was almost pronounced dead.