the tingling air
and ripped the top of
his own skull off, laughing
at his presumption.
A Pandora's box of raving
lunatics erupted from his
brazenly open cranium, only
to wither in the heat of the
lounging day.
He sat comfortably on
the pock-marked battleground
and looked around it
with unaccustomed calm
as the Harpies died their
unmourned deaths.
An enigmatic smile crossed
his face, and he could almost sense
the soft-focused
Florentine countryside
framing him.
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