"I am IDIOT, hear me Blither!"
A TRACE OF HAZE
the pits of hell
the darker zones
we see the trends
we know that we
have little chance
to free ourselves
to cast off chain
and be away
the world conspires
to drag us down
to pull beneath
the murkey deep
to cast us to
depression's void
with no hope to
arise again
this darkness swirls
not pent by light
it reaches out
to every space
leaving shadows
a trace of haze
touching all
with tendrils black
there are no paths
we haven't tried
all roads are mined
all doorways, traps
no safety here
no solace found
all vectors sharp
with waiting knives
the vise jaws close
with crushing force
the spike-lined walls
press in on us
the mountain casts
down massive stones
we are destroyed
without a trace
- Brendan Tripp
08/13/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp
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