a treasure chest is what I am
a treasure chest filled with nothing
my gilded lining is rusted
I lie half-buried in the desert as an illusion to the travelers
from near and far
their keys they claim to fit so perfectly within me
but only I hold the entrance to my riches
they shall never lay their eyes on me,
for all they will find
in the midst of their splendor
is my paintings of ashes and blood
