• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 10
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Blank faces staring back
From a vortex of cranial vacancy.
Whorls of words drip and drip while
They trip the light fantastic.
The quick step. The two-step. A goose-step.
Placating the plastic personas
And vacating accountability,
As the shadow puppets play
On the walls and pray to gods
Created in their pompous ascension.
Now I wake me from deep sleep
To creep along a road too steep
And shake off the last vestige
Of their soulless, seductive soliloquy.