Find me;
find the cracks in my flooring,
the creaking skins of dead wood layering,
my unconventional soul –find me-
Find the dirt under ***** concrete fingernails,
twisted wrists long left in disrepair,
broken windows on display for the viewing.
Oh! You shall find me;
find me in the creeping webs, covering
swallowed carpet banks of trampled memories,
find me in the lurking embrace of long forgotten
porcelain, water trickling over curved claws that
cradled once the bodies of its masters.
Find the locks’ undoing,
Hidden, muted, silently under rocks and peat and mosses
-oh Gaia how she reclaims me-
Find me,
in the checkered spirits who in refusal of their doom,
recline or pace their usual haunts
groaning over the wasted voices spewing easily from lost attic spaces.
Blackened bricks behind rotted logs lie,
claiming their lichen as a blanket longing to burn with their imagined fury;
lichen too clings to me in decrepit bundles
a salve to my aching joints,
deliberate screws weather-beaten by rust
I long for the day of my return to Her grasp.
Find me,
left for elemental ruin
in my inconsequential magnificence
gnarled by neglect and the graffiti of small hate-filled
creatures, two-legged, hairless, and longing for vengeance on a bigger world than I.
Find me.
Decay melding seamlessly with disregarded feelings of home
long since used to disappointment
I sit, silence exposed in empty cavities of bone
I am exponentially expendable.
I shall wait.
Find me.