A Hat Menagerie Preston Smith Kaleidoscopic fabric climbs my walls like ivy, poisonous only in the false hope it invokes. My hats are compact like a coral reef, their varying colors culminating in Humanity. I ask only for my tower. I sweep the room, ever aware of outside stares, ever unaware of how everything ended up dreadfully. I see hats haphazardly strewn, and I realize: my tower is my Underworld. I only wished to discover Elysium. My history unfolds two […]
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