Falsity dragons

"If the doors of perception were cleansed

Every thing would appear to man as it is."

— Blake

In this world of lurking reptiles

Suspended, in ambush, on the thresholds of fantasy

Which crossed make victims, in the narrow

Glutton gullet of agony

Cross by, unaware, these dead doors

Cross by, get lost along the crooked paths

Where humanity, of which humans are proud

Is nothing more than the shroud's cloth

Covering their lost faces

In the incongruity of the winters.

For it is inside that the sewer

Of this dark truth settles:

Your soul, this dismal ditch

Breeding ground for the falsity dragons.