Untitled
the Wall is in front of me;
the vague, blue fog streams
through the crack
thin as a splinter
running from atop.
there is a concrete staircase
and a marble tomb stone
on the other side.
I escalate taking steps
to and sometimes fro,
always watching my step,
not to trip not to crumble.
still the wall remains
always high,
no matter where you may stand
or lie after a fall.
even the bloody red stains of dread
will leave no fractional trace
of compromise on this cold,
knobby textured surface.
the lifeless terror springs
no more from my veins,
as I realize our fate
- yours and mine -
to be forever surrounded,
magnetized behind
the true eyes of the phantom.
although, he might
be the everlasting deceiver,
he will break us through
the oppressive wall.
first of course,
smothering our flesh
through the crack filled with fog.