by Heather Snider
April 1, 2005
I see images of a man treading thin water,
through corridors of confusion,
with portraits of a girl,
choking on reality.
The stares on their faces go on for miles,
like the road that leads home,
where we’re greeted with trials.
With a knock on the door, he opens his mind
to new ways of life outside of the cocoon he’s spun
from the threads of hope that hold them together.
Things revolve around them in fast rotations,
with beams of light spewing over the edges of insanity,
into this abyss we call life…