the city sleeps

along many foul
alleyways; up
cracked and broken
steps:
a dwarfish creature,
twisted and bloated,
winds his ugly
way,
and, like a gremlin from the
pit, squeezes himself through
a dark and mouldy
crack.
once INSIDE the
place
he creeps up
the ancient winding
stair, into a
throne room lit only by
a few failing
candles.
on a rickety wooden
throne
sits a deformed and
dark-skinned creature,
his face full of
eyes,
each one bloodshot and
staring.
at his feet lie in neat
piles
gold coins, and
next to them
books,
containing many
calculations in handwritten
script. upon his grotesque and
scabbed head a crown
sits, at a rakish angle. mirrors are
everywhere in that
room
splintering the horror into a thousand
shards. above the throne hangs a mouldering
tapestry:

“THIS IS ALL THERE IS” it says…