traveling to solitude

Locked in, transparently
held by my own hand;
wearisome, the toil of
eyes placed over and
around my throat.

Vapid smiles, rancid
rolling laughter:
in the fog, corporate steeples
pledge their souls
to alien words.

Lifted slightly, sunbeams
crashing into the shore;
sand grown on the
back of kings; scepters
lying in the river, alone.