The Heart of Hell

March 7, 2011
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Walking along the heated paved road,
Waves of exhaustion blurring my vision,
of the long travel yet to come.
Beads slipping down my face,
sizzling as they drip to the black fire.
My tongue a dry lump in my mouth,
begging for the smallest drip of water.
My rasps for help slowly fading,
along with the little shade.
It’s gone, my last grip of sanity.
It’s gone, my last grip of sanity.

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