smudged and blurred

There is dirt, earth, in my mouth. I have just taken a nasty fall. The texture of the grains of rock and soil, the taste of the particles of feces and rotting vegetable matter all impress themselves upon the mind as unpleasant at first. But this is surely because they are unfamiliar and appear now suddenly, unexpectedly. Olfactory sense is heightened uncannily, and the mind becomes aware of the thousands of scents that make up this particular spring day. It is all too much at once, so observation and meditation have become necessary. The sorting of information and self-diagnosis occur as the adrenal glands spread their super-juices throughout the body. Too soon all that registers though, are the colour orange and the smell of the inside of nostrils. The hot shock of electric pain passes up to my brain from my knees and the palms of my hands. If I look there will be blood. Then the texture of the grit between teeth finds accordance with the gravel sticking into flesh. I believe I can feel the bits of earth with the blood that is seeping around them and out of me even as the taste of the same elements is in my saliva, on my tongue. I am reunited with the world outside as the tenuous line between it and what is inside me is smudged and blurred.