traveling to solitude

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

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

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

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