Val wanders in fog

Delirious, poisonous fumes they call this fog, mist that entraps me and yet traps of this kind I call it enticement, a lure, though my befuddled mind tries to make sense of where I am going, my body is made up of many parts and I am keenly aware of how my heart seeks one thing, my stomach another, something else my liver wants, or kidney, matters not for they don't really protest, nah, not at all till too late when symptoms show, ah, but I talk too much for it is better to live a day in paradise than a million eons in purgatory, always able to find a way back and sometimes the fulcrum is gone, and what you find is a devil's snare, of many heads coming all at once, the vines have cut off oxygen and it seems that the best part of delusions is the lies.