We follow and are followed

Another day of grey rain is tracking tears down the window. I suppose it is in its nature to bring about a strange strain of self reflection.

To each a multitude of messiahs

Our disciples cloaked in silk and rags

Hungry for glimpses of some ignoble life

Starving for the scraps of slander

We follow and are followed

A fragile veneer of sepia filters

Cover the momentary mundane

Superb realism in the unreality

Truths built on a multitude of lies

We follow and are followed