A dream 1 - Houses

Alone
amongst the rotting wood
breathing in the dust
none of this really exists
and yet fear grips me fiercely

I am alone
amongst the fading fabric
padding soft sounds into a dead carpet
my eyes are spying movement

I am joined by shadows,
shaped like men
tall and imposing
they watch me, watch me with benevolence
no noises except those in my head
mocking
judging
waiting
this is all so familiar

By a door I stop and enter a room
dark reds and evil greens
a bloodied forest of decaying furniture
trapped in time
I cannot leave, not yet

from the door frame the shadows watch me
peering into the room where I stand
and there are stairs
always there are stairs
always they lead up
into darkness, and
more
rotting
wood.




Poetry by ttius
Read 582 times
Written on 2014-02-13 at 00:34

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