The ManHattan Maze
Published in
1 min readJan 21, 2020
Cold as ice
but still a rhythm of warmth
an aroma
which drives hunger
lights of twinkled towers
skyline above masking mazes
white leveled floors
carried horizontal projections
a thirst
hand gripped
tight
a missed stop
verbal fight from fear
the lost building
draws lower pain
silence
blinded by darkness
you think of the hands
pulsating through the cold
by their beat
