Come, walk down the halls of my faceless gallery, the blistered portraits of nonsense madman howling at self and nobody, but silence. You are intrigued by the lack of intrigue and boredom soon swings her pendulum hypnotizing us both, moan now sure as I am deaf will your cries be heard by none other. We are friends and brothers sisters father and the same, all dying in the dark of mothers shadow but only one welcomes it. Footsteps echo and yet no one walks, eyes understand nothing in this light and perhaps you left before you arrived, hearing now the sounds of either, saddened and confused by this display you paint yourself.
Faceless we are in the company of ourselves and nothing more until another claims the brush.