The Maps That Chase Us

empty gowns lay on the floor. naked mannequins tremble in the darkness. no faces. just shapes suffocating inside weighted flesh. 

the truth is a hinge on a heavy door. ripe with dirty rooms. 

we listened to the sound of scratching. as the walls all turned to mazes. beguiled by others lost. 

running. as the floor evaporated. falling. betrayed by gravity.

little dolls. in crumbling cages. 

measuring freedom in the lies that remain.