Edit Me.

The corn maze: in the style of Dylan Thomas

I recall the bite of the air, nipping at my flesh, nibbling at my neck, the black of the night, swallowing the bright, the tiny bulbs of light, bobbing, bobbing, the crunch of the corn, the crashing and laughing and faces that were smiling, children blundering, the smell of the crops, of soil and stalks, like a forest before me with hands that were grabbing and tugging and pulling my hair, gnarled and decrepit, as frail and fragile as the skin of an old woman, yet less likely to tear, we’re following faces into unknown places, unknown abyss that was scratching and slapping the skin that was bare, running and panting till I ran out of air, thoroughly lost, deep in the maze with no way back, searching for something, those bulbs of light, bobbing and nodding, but only blackness met our gaze, surrounded and crowded by nothing but corn, a chill in the breeze knocks at my knees, the only warmth from tears that streamed down my cheeks, burning and turning round every bend, every corner, searching for a crevice to hide, to creep into, fingers were numbing, feet were fumbling, bodies were toppling, and exhaustion was drawing nearer; hearts were pounding, a drum inside my head, growing louder and louder with each stomp of my feet, beating and hammering the compressed dirt, shrunken and shriveled husks tickled mittens and jackets, spinning around, a new path freshly discovered, waiting to be pursued, chasing death himself, taunting, jeering, tempting, leading, searching for those bobbing bulbs of light, comforting and calming, growing brighter and brighter, the finish line almost in sight, coming closer to the faces we left behind, waiting for what seems like hours, the final reprieve of an exit, like a single hole in (an endless tunnel), familiar smirks of the night sky as we part, each muscle let go of its immeasurable hold on the bones to which we clung, warmth, cheeks gaining back their humanly glow, growing slowly, flooding, rushing to replenish their redness, tingling and burning as they crawl their way back under my skin: a new haven.