The room's misted, I can hear
voices I think; shrouded cries
and muffled screams. But the smog
consumes us all.

I hear my name in the distance,
disembodied and murky like they
try to reach me through their sick seances.
They all melt into one loud trill.

There's only moments left
but as I walk this invented distance,
I feel a pull; magnetic almost,
away from the oppressive subterranean smoke.

There! A light that shines, and
the ringing ever clearer now,
so loud and harsh like a sick child's
scream; perennial and pained.

The veil of mist billows out as
I step on the ledge; and the blackest
of skies invites me, along with the
winks of dying stars. The incessant

noises and chaos and distraction
evanesce, as the asphalt below
beckons; blinking lights and enticing winds
either predict or force my hand.

With one lapse in thought;
my foot slips and all there is
to think is calm. I let the stream
of air take me and consume me.