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Poetry My mind has been here before
This skeleton skull, hopelessly drawn to a map, or to exist silently within the white shapes of the moon
Surely I have watched as projectors synchronized my death to the chanting choirs only visions can conceive
Have glimpsed reality evaporate to nothing more than a flick of ash
Wearing the masks of humanity once called whole, now an island of lost souls wandering in myths and memories wondering where their stories has left us
In debt
Under glass
Beneath the ruins of our kings long dead before us
Long live
Insanity
Maybe, in another life, I was the captain of this sinking ship
