Coarse Salt

Like the pumping, runned through my veins.
I am the blood!
That, I get easily confused once upsetted?
Then, I tell myself to slow-down.
That I maked;
to guess of.
To have' guessed of its nature. . .
how comforted I must be.
I focused on no important things:
that unethical it feeled.
Random in my mind.
A vision.
That of nothing,
not unethically obligated.
That hided my intelligence of a fairer virtue.