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May 142012
 

by A. J. Huffman

 

I spin.

My thoughts like a web.

Untravelable.

Interpretable.

As directions

to the seven levels of hell.

I was there.

First.  Last.  And foremost.

I survived.

To tell a tale no one will believe.

But they sit in awe of its beauty.

Bloody and bold.

Like a song with no name.

They will carry it

in the back of their minds.

Forever.

Locked tight.

Like the secrets of death.

Frozen.

By a fear

and a forgiveness

too deep for my hands

to see.