The Inferno

It is the quintessence of monotony: a mountain chain of stucco that lies atop fallow lots the size of kitchen magnets. Welcome to suburbia. I effortlessly enter my pervious pastel palace, but the voyage to my room is an uphill battle; it is quite an insurmountable quest. The trek to my cell consists of a frozen spiral staircase. It is not smooth and slippery, though, but rocky and perilous. The portal lies beyond the staircase...          …

…because of the agony of distortion. She can not be heard.          A deluge of darkness overtakes my bedroom. My eyes are suddenly fixed on a beam of light. The radio that rests to the left of my dresser has a light that indicates power. It beckons me, but I am restrained by the dark angels in my bedroom. They always appear when I long for anything. They are with me, in my room, for eternity.