Prescient Pedantics

The foci were interminable. Layers of time indistinguishable. Second thoughts. Thirds. And fourths. Wet beds in the morning. Drawing pictures in the piss.

Artists on about their visions. Posing the limbs of the dolls. The flat sheet over the fitted. The blanket on top of the pillows. Ugly girls with their faces buried in cliffs.

The edge. Pantomimes and trash heaps. Spoiled with the histrionics of missing skin. The levers on her breasts. Like half built time machines. Taking us away. To places we had always been. The chambers in her grief. Echoing. Spaces nothing could fill.

The sparse merchants of time. Grim pawns. On the heels of kings. Still talking. Though all are deaf.

Feeding the chameleon. Though the colors are gone. Just kingdom enough. If I keep my eyes closed.