In the sea of desk,
there’s talk of games and bags
and long pipes that leak dreams
with the strike of a match.
and there’s a loudness to the whispers I hear.
Whispers shouldn’t be that loud, should they?
There’s a girl over there
who everyone knows
and men without ears
who will stand by the door for a price.

In long hallways,
there are angry mobs of dwarves and rats
and one single angel