the floor is lava
the air filled with
carcinogenic particulates
as a fool sits on
a granite throne
carved from the tombstones
of all those let down
by borderline paranoia
lost in the shifting sands
turned to a glass prison
as the floor flows in floes
of lackluster magnanimous
magma oozing from these
open weeping sores laid out
in the crescent edge
where her smile carved away
the parts i wanted to be
leaving an ivory skeleton
casting neither shadow
nor asperisons in the dark
side of another bad cycle