I shot up from my prison as the smell of the wild came sledding in on the lemongrass breeze,

The glass cut my feet and the blood drained away, a powerless entity invading my essence.

The call of the freedom came jeering once again, and we soured from the crevice with the hopes and the sparks, the explosions behind and the fires beheld, the mockery of god-given life.

Rising and gliding, escape from the cabin haunting, the walls turned to mirrors and the dreams filled with with snow fluffed away in a blink, scratching and clawing the surface of marble.

Time stood still on the mountainous summit, and we wept as the world grew small. Every joyous rock thrown into the puddle released despair from the innermost depths of personal hell.

And as the taunting continued, the horse among Pegasi cried as the wings beat him down, the ground turned to ash and the skies turned to eyes, the thunder roared all through the valleys.

Crisp massif air was taken by grapevines as the baton of this torture was passed, the autumn leaves were stripped from the branches, mere flies trying to kiss the moonlight.

I took a deep breath and lay down in my prison, waiting for souls to come pouring in rain, the secrets and sorrows of painstaking viability, the enchantments of a steam powered engine.