Desolated Tech-No-Words

Maze

My work is ugly and disorientated.

I can't find a thing in and out.

Can't trail my path back because my bread crumbs were tears- which evaporated along with my soul.

I've stuck a hole in my brain so I can't hear or see.
Blind and deaf,

I can't think straight as a telescope.

The mirrors reflect flat reality, a hot gleam of fake

But at least the curve of my red sleighs, show where they give a path upon chopped oak wood.

I'm a chair for you to sit on and use.

Until the day I completely break into splintered pines

they use pines for mannequins.