A million a day amongst the haze.
Every breath is stinging worse now that the silence has ceased to exist.
Trolleys and follies help filter the bliss and melancholy.
I'm digging the deep hundred mile holes.
Searching for portals.
Searching for Alighieri.
This heart is beating fast and the moment I take notice the pattern shifts perfectly.
I felt like the boy trying to impress the others.
Holding my breath underwater.
I held in as long as I could.
They told me to let go, but I couldn't resist.
The pain slowly turning to sweet satisfaction.
Like the mouse or Ed Harris in 'The Abyss'
the slow blurring of everything around me is putting me to sleep...
...I awoke to brisk low-lit hallways.
North, south, east, west.
Which path should I tread?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem