The Interior

There are doors I would not see opened
Corridors best left untrodden
Cobweb strewn landings etched in black
That creak on windless evenings like old mens’ bones
They haunt me these nightmarish visions
These places where ghouls roam by moonlight
And creatures nip and tear, then scuttle away on broken limbs
They play at me like background music
Whilst locked in an elevator trapped between floors
Yes, they trouble me, chip at my consciousness
Like ants carrying pieces of my mind to their queen
Locking me in and others out bit by tiny bit
I fear them, though it’s I who hold the key
To the worlds locked in this mired mind
An interior others would best see not revealed

4 thoughts on “The Interior

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