Senses

Sandra says lifeless-

it gets pretty empty sometimes.
Then, always followed by cold, cold.
Out of the equator now, snows over the north, blaze over the south.
Moderate it remains here.

Visions become blur at times;
Sounds become... inaudible.

Taste loses its stimulation,
Attempts become more feeble than I could figure out.

Breeze out there howling for vacant oddities.
With no inkling in advance, nightfalls are reliefs.
The next day, off it goes the memories and senses,
fluorescence goes dim, dimmer,

Ultimately, vanishes.