I don't like pink

A strong whiff of something emanates through the air
instinctively I try to close in
but pull nothing
A pungent taste overcomes the sense of taste
slowly there is the rush to spit
to release
what?
an unknown sensation
likened to that of a buzz, paralytic and nauseating
slowly I open my eyes and realize what I
see
taste
feel
is life in all aspects;
free yet restricting
melancholy yet hopeful
dead yet surprisingly alive