Hell is a toll-free road

The hollow sound of the song ending,

Lingers just above the horizon,

A translucent fog petting the asphalt,

Lapping the sea-sky,

Aching to break the restraint of silence.

In revolt, the boy shrieks in-surrection with childish fervor,

Towards the moon-that-should-be,

“I have learned to love my fate;

But where have you gone?”

His only companion,

The stunted steps of small feet,

Swallowed by the fog-wall,

Silent to the stars watching,

Witness to the cold breath rising around the man-child;

The road continues on,

With time diffusing into the realist clouds,

Suspended in the mirage of distance,

Oblivious and obstinate to the wanton advances of the Gaze:

A road sign reads “No Outlet”;

The boy had arrived, with a smile.

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