whatever you do,
whatever you do, don’t think that
these thrones are made of ash;
packed tight like sand castles and
barely strong enough to hold a man
let alone a kingdom.
whatever you do, don’t think that
they carry a stench like death,
or how their builder’s hands are stained red
and you can tell by the fingerprints they left
streaked along these polished marble floors.
whatever you do, don’t think of
pillars they made with the spines
of broken and beguiled lambs.
vertebrae stacked ceiling high despite
cracks that spider throughout the bone.
whatever you do, don’t sit in those thrones
don’t claim a power you can never own.
this palacial necropolis - gray and dark and
tasteless - we find a gravity well in ashen seats.
a quicksilver cushion built for nothing but greed.
[ajsdfhlkjsadha i forgot to put the reference post]