the beams of fluorescent light resemble icicles gleaming, piercing ...
the sickenning bite of dank musty cold air....
strangers with blank stares hum quietly, hum on their own....
vertiginous stretches of deep halls elongated bounds,
her dark, dreary, gloomy realm....
the shade crawling...
she feels her feet deep in it wading....
floating on borrowed breaths, less dense then her shadow....
tethered to her wings dead weight's bitter pull...
it seems it might be a delicate balance between giving-in and struggling against...
the maidens around her of not too tall stature...
wear tear like forms bolted to their ears...
from their necks some semblance of black oil crawl down tear tracks or the like ...
enraptured by these instruments of whom sounds of indoctrination stem...
when shall these souls be un-caged and take heed to freedom's radiant song...
a grief ago she who was in her cloud-like bed, she who holds her pillow and covers...
and she who lies, as if in suspended trance comforted around by a garden...
dream chimerical psalms on a backdrop of surreal reflections...
the night is clear there need be no hesitation...
stains and bitter taste of coffee makes sure the length of night she will have to endure....
and i tell her this before the roster crows and the sun casts her bones to fire....
"brave the cold musty air, wade steadily on your shadow, breathe on borrowed air...
cross your arms you archaic angel and close your fist...
then lay your gypsy eyes to sleep so you may embrace yourself in reverie...
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