Night of Fire

PROLOGUE:

Ashen skies look down upon autumn pavement.
Towering buildings soar
between Gothic roofs
and Roman Archways that prevent the escape of
happiness from the prisons of the souls held here. Hear
the sound of calm, feel the presence of simplicity, languish in
the sensation of touching something Tangible, juicy like tangerines in
spring. Your step falls on shaky ground with hand rails above and below………………...
safety.

At First.

It is not understanding that is lacking,
but a Coherency that would breed fluidity.
It is not a gaping lack in the factual,
but a miniscule miscalculation in detailing.

Purple Haze, the sight, not the sound.

She used to say, "Jump!"

Traveling too fast for government work, closer to rebellious rabble-rousing regulations.
The golden lights reflect off night time skies and Halloween trees,
The metal is warm when it should freeze.
Through bended knees and bleeding hands,
The touch to the skull will kill every time,
The body if not the mind.
The sprint to freedom seldom reached, mud clinging to the muscles,
grappling beneath the skin containing the desired movement to a useless attempt, a try, not a do.

Adieu.