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]