I took a hand full of frosted door ****,
My skin glued to the brushed chrome finish,
Like pitch forks and torches I spewed out of a mob,
A raw bone aching anguish,
Stepped in through the doorway leaving behind snowy footprints,
I stepped in the doorway leaving behind morbid hints,
Subtle snores filled the air a man sitting up in a sofa chair,
Biting down, trapped in his middle-class nightmare,
Eyes open slow expecting the unknown,
Then his nails dig into the leather as his pupils impload,
He chatters through his teeth a breathless "help" in Morse code,
So I held up my index finger, and said in a moist whisper,
"Don’t say a ******* word."
He broke out in a wide-eyed choppy nod,
Baby, in this hell this dark world,
There is no such thing as an all merciful loving god,
The night was silent especially in this dark room,
A man with soiled pants stares out into the empty gloom,
With his effortlessly open jaw and his imminent doom.