In the veil of the pouring waters, everything drenched, and the mossy ground thawed from the showers swooped into a muddy whirlpool as the water gushed through a hole, there was no ground below my feet, it was melting away into an abyss and I walked on it , steps firmly rooted in a nebula . I stepped into a puddle, the water cold and filthy washed at my feet with a splash that reverberated my thoughts. My eyes had been stalking a figure in that downpour, a hazy figure, appeared in white near the blue glass walls, it traced my glance,met me in the eyes and then like a the condensed haze on the window pane it was all removed by a sudden sweep. I conjured the haze.. The lucidity of a glass wall never alarms, is like a monotonous pain after you have pressed your self against it in an attempt to walk through, illusions and haze arise and then fall leaving a twitch of agony. Hope leads to hallucinations and despair is a counter drug. Which one of them is the poison?
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