I built you a hall of echoes
and filled it with twinkles
that rode the waves of bare faces
only to run
further
like a siren
red
shifting away
into fragments
of a sound
pieces of an alarm clock
that made you look
into the grooves
underneath your hairs
that drew a map
from your follicles
guiding you
beyond the 404
rippling through
to obscure your view
of what lies past
and what looks back at you