I ride the echoes of the hall
and run my hands a hairs breadth from the glossy
stucco images of forgotten royalty.
So much is only visible from a distance,
and while I squint at muted water lilies
that float with effortless grace on
pastel waters, I try to internalize
the feeling of peace inherent on a sleepy
swirling town as a supposed God
guides his lost and mortal flock.
Currently, my brain feels like it's
dripping onto desert sands where it
evaporates with a hiss on contact and
my mouth is a oval wind tunnel
frozen in ghoulish screams.