It quickly became apparent that not all was
as it once was.
The mouth which governed the wall
(which was twisted and cracked)
smiled,
and proceeded to
grind its teeth
to the beat of the
morbid drone of
the siren.
Each a percussive
slab of yellowing ivory,
chipped, curved;
a grizzled toenail.
Being torn off
may solve more problems
than it causes.
At the door:
A brushing noise.
If the mouth could see
how gracefully
I navigate the room,
it might be impressed
and let me out.
*Note to self:
Doors are best left closed.*