Calls

It's a struggle to find all the words to say
Nighttime falls the sky turns a ruddy grey
To the horizon is an orange flaming glow
The type of heat that makes the asphalt waver

Rusted old locks barely keep the house shut
Opened with a hammer and it's a dark new place to roam
Dusty furniture that is too old to fathom
It's falling apart it's all falling devastatingly apart

Look there is a back yard, there seems to be a doorway here
Weeds grow almost inside, cut through cut through
Tickling legs wander through the muck and stench


Something about here

There's something about here

Past the empty house is the hole where the soul delved
Before the edge is a horrible horrible smell
Peer down and the blackness calls you further
The blackness calls you further
The blackness
Calls


© copyright j.f.m.