night falls, smother the frayed nerves of captive souls
like a penitentiary only a lock at the main gate
I crawl over the fallen
my heart in pocket and fractured spirit
a taste of crimson iron-spice in dirt
the ground swells and trembles below my hands
a pulsing monstrous beast come to life
and I, disturbingly intensely pass through
across these lines of densely packed bodies
like moon surface between cavernous crater
my wish like a snowflake above a furnace
to breach the gate and find my life over there
:: 02-20-2014 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 