A figure pauses,
relapses, moves back.
starts again;
broken childhood, shattered
too soon. others wouldn’t
have seen it coming.
futile attempts to build
dilapidated bridges
fail and burn;
drapes cover you, hiding
away monsters that
lurk within your mind.
armchairs left to rot
in forgotten corners,
orchids withered after a decade.
the lights don’t help.
the noises blind you.
the screaming never ceases.
glimpses of memories,
flash. flash.
flash..
You’ve wasted your time here.
the Devil lives within this empty house.
it’s too late, too late to crawl.
the best you can do is wait.
May 11, 2019
May 11, 2019 at 1:31 AM UTC
A figure pauses,
relapses, moves back.
starts again;
broken childhood, shattered
too soon. others wouldn’t
have seen it coming.
futile attempts to build
dilapidated bridges
fail and burn;
drapes cover you, hiding
away monsters that
lurk within your mind.
armchairs left to rot
in forgotten corners,
orchids withered after a decade.
the lights don’t help.
the noises blind you.
the screaming never ceases.
glimpses of memories,
flash. flash.
flash..
You’ve wasted your time here.
the Devil lives within this empty house.
it’s too late, too late to crawl.
the best you can do is wait.
In response to Mary Karr’s “All This and More” from The Devil’s Tour.