Sunday, September 28, 2014

Rush. Hush.

Groping in a tunnel, Hear
A voice
Few cautious steps
Stumble
Falling again
A familiar drop. The same
old 
rush
Glimmers of light
TEASE. Closed,
empty fists
Scream.
Solitary echo.
Hit the bottom, it
Hurts
Alone.
No flashes, deathly
Silence.
Something rots.
Need to
Flee.
Again.
Can't always be
Groping
In a tunnel.