A prose poem by Wagner Hertzog
The days will pass me by indefinitely, with a strong moral support from the eternity of a nature that sleeps endlessly. Increasingly stronger, more sinister, more desperate and progressively more and more acute and intermittent, the storm in this ravenous world is something diluted upon the mindful horizon of my definitively persistent nature, as if someone was becoming invisible in the ruins of a colossal stature. Realizing that something morbid was happening in the gloom of night, I quickly got up, took a flashlight, and left the crystal house of the controversial fog of my life. Towards the hidden place of my intense immensity, I saw the fire palace where everything that had sustained the frailty of my somnolence immediately abandoned the pinnacle of mortality.
With fear and temerity, these days without reason aren’t the fulfillment of an ambiguous decline. I approached, not knowing exactly who or what I would face, and I was careful not to draw attention, illuminating what I have to see only a few meters in front of me, being very cautious with the darkness around me. But when I reached the empty streets of life at midnight, at first, I saw nothing. And then I started looking better, but after a few minutes I found nothing. I began to think then that I had arrived too late, and that I should start looking for an entirely new aspect of my interior soul, and then I began to think properly. When the prospective victim had managed to escape, I was trapped in the wrong place, and the fragile skylight that inexplicably disappeared drove me directly to the surreal palace of desire. If I had gone somewhere else, there had been no attempted plausibility to stand before the true aphorism of my belief. I saw someone screaming for no clear motive.
I'm pretty sure I left my reality unconscious, but I do not know for how long. I couldn’t feel, nor speak, nor see. After some relatively disoriented time and wondering what kind of ponderable omniscience I should start over my personal condolences, my senses all reacted, without any practical results. After a while, I began to suspect that some substance must have been injected into me, for I felt relatively lethargic. Soon I began to feel a draft of cold air, and I realized that I must be in some sort of basement. Then someone must have turned on the light, for I saw a chink of light under the blindfold that I should be wearing.