i went to the bed tired, but the scrape & the slither of that which dwellest in dreams kept me from finding slumber. awake, i find shed scales all about my feet. these dreams of forsaken glory are a classic bait & switch: advertised is the remnant memories of the hive of heaven, but what really boils to the surface is the wastelands. the craters we left when we were cast down from our thrones. all the night-phantoms i have left have long since been picked over by scavangers; they are the husks & broken circuit boards of hindu androids. we will hold our crowns up above our heads like umbrellas to keep our skulls safe from mind control satallites. i will rest here until the serpent passes (i can tell by the condensation of its breath that the jabberwocky this way comes) & then retire to my chamber.