in the breath of the lights,
I wander through the hysterical
questions of urban mystery.

they play like a forgotten measure
of an ancient symphony, recorded
on mental parchment...

with my invisible fingers, I try
to trace those chords
back to the harmonic puzzle
from whence they came.

yet, I am swallowed by dissonant
voices, speaking from the black windows
and rubicund eyes, burnt
into memory.

so, do those questions
still exist somewhere
beneath that
which is
audible?

I do not yet hear them.

this scroll has been
erased
blankened by neglect
its anger has washed clear
the ink that once flowed
across
its parchment pages
those who pass it by
fail to see
the d y i n g
words.

where is the pen
that will embody
the white space
once again?

lost in red
delusional labyrinths,
her bulbous eyes depict an
undiscovered fear
       within.

walls built
to be impenetrable,
soundproof, stand
permanently - forming
a psychotic structure
preventing communication,
     the trans-
             la  tion
of drows rutsegse guothhst
(words, gestures, thoughts)

and she pushes with anorexic
     fingers against
             the cinder
          blocks, as the
   at    mos     fear
           cringes
         around
           h e r...

does escape exist?