Whirlwinds of white satin blur
with pallid arms and brittle wrists
cuffed in diamond shackles
and flourishing hand fans
—within taste, of course.
With sunken collarbones
and heads that bobble in blind assent
and smile accordingly.
Smile, by definition, a cautious twitch of the lips
not quite reaching the eyes.

Lost in a haze of smog spilling from the mouths
of mustached men in smoking jackets
he roams within the unyielding walls of the labyrinth.
Attempts to flee squelch chances of escape.
Inside, no thread guides,
any links to the outer world severed.
The chain that once led him to reality
now binds him to his fate,
ripped in half by the monster who hunts,
charging him down into a corner
and leaving him glued against the stone wall
with no choice but to face his doom.

Piercing black eyes
and a heart to match,
the bull-woman snorts and puffs,
rampages in a raging huff,
waiting to charge.
No escaping.
Not from the champagne or cigars,
from the line of ladies in need of courting,
from the houses: both pent- and opera-,
and never from the horned creature
seemingly sent from Hell herself.

No trail of bread crumbs
to find his way out.
Forever trapped under the dim glow
of flickering chandelier lights,
he's learned that once was all he'd get.
Yes, he managed just one time before,
but now he sees truth:
No one fools the monster twice.
There's no escaping the Labyrinth.