THE HOUSE
SILENCE LYNCHED BY DANGLING COBWEBS
the start of a story still being written
a carpet mapped in stain ,
edges frayed shorelines-
carved brown caskets salute in the dark
shrouds hung over violent eyes
steer the light away
broken splinters perform as artists
magician and stair
buried in stone and rusted sight
Angels fallen into forgotten rooms
guard jointed bone
weeping spirit sleeps from murders whisper
Tables dusted in sin
stand drenched in vacant population
small tin toys creak in the annoyance
the large lid of the door
proudly displays the guillotines stone head
Words in speech
crawl from past vessels beached
Spheres of gloomy glass
perched on twisted iron arms
Echos partner and dance times polka
this vaulted tomb
ancient crime
it bleeds,it bleeds inside
where no vision,no eye, vents in delight
decomposing this ruin in battle
we wait,
Ssssh the door opens
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