the false walls
help disguise
the arms of the spiral
the tentacles
pulling ever in
by the time
you recognize
the pattern
it’s far too late

a modern day
daedalus
crafting impossibilities
with a crooked quill
too clever
to be less than
dangerous
not clever by half
as he assumes

the kraken roars
ferocious beak
cleaving through
a destitution of
dreamspur arrhythmia
as suckered tentacles
leech hope of escape
in a cloud of
pungent ink billows
until naught remains
but broken hearts
lost in self constructed
labyrinthian hells