The Doors Muted

guard the garden (we are the only instructions) faced with sand, glass, and mirrors… did you hear that? (sounds of plunder) the fangs of birth crying…waters demanding life…effluvia…spit from the dragon we receive all our legends and monsters (the preacher slams his fist down on the podium) the bible (bound in leather) warriors clash tongues swap swords (the sun prays darkness upon the temple) painted eyes hand over what is left (for honor the gods demand) another missed meal for the dog sniffing refuse…the doors…muted… SLAM (dissonance in the lie words inaccurate the great vessel poisoned electric inspiration shock of authority dementia where is that sound the teeth open phrases unearthly esoteric splitting over the clay cliffs craving what it already lost…) and walking through the town the ghosts see graveyards and hide in the blink of still photography…