Spelunking MIT's Underbelly

Beneath the Infinite,
the Institute unfolds in shadows;
pipes clatter like distant footsteps,
steam hisses in coded messages
that drift like forgotten blueprints.

We enter through a service hatch,
no map, only the thrill of descent,
where mysteries unfold underground.

Graffiti blooms
in flashlight flicker –
dates, crude drawings,
a strange equation scrawled
in glow-in-the-dark paint.

Each turn a question mark,
each grate a riddle.
We search not for treasure,
but for the thrill of unseen pathways,
the rumor of a sub-basement
beneath the sub-basement.

Down here,
MIT breathes in concrete and cables,
and we follow its whispers
down Corridors of the Infinite.