Tuesday, December 20, 2005

The House

This ancient stone house speaks its own language
And I cling to the blueness afforded to me
By the cracked windows. Not enough, I complain

But the danger lies within, not beyond
These impenetrable walls. I am reminded
By a sharp, verbal slap in the face

I feel those old ghosts grieve. I am numb
I walk through those colourless rooms
Seeking, yet dreading, revelations

A signal – full and clear. A shout! Danger!
Someone else is in this room with me
A fragment of him embeds itself within my psyche


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