Asylum -

There is a pulsing heat

Like pressure

Against my face

And reflected in my coruscating eye: the burning city

In the ghostly smoke from this crucible

With my fractured hope in the melting ore

I lie.

But in my mind, I’m atop the tallest building

And from that high perch

I descend

I am weightless as I fall

Wind rushing past me

Boulevards growing larger in my eyes

And then…

I wake