Background arrhythmia, somber, stuttering wick.
A sudden gust: in, out, racing through the halls.
Marbled calcium pillars.
There are things in here I cannot describe.
Things that claw
Things that cry
Things that go bump in the night.

Cobwebbed artery, buildup
Block the access
Vena Cava.
Decrepit atrium.

How they cry! I wish I could find the key.
But the basement must stay locked.
Quite locked!
Hurricane of flapping, frantic wings
Screech and scream.
If only I could let them out
Air the stale tricuspid.
But I can’t. The house hides too much.
No, I’ll hold them with me
And with me they’ll stay
Until the foundations slip into the bog.

Poltergeist, rip the photo albums, smash the screen.
Pillow-down snowfall, levitation
Pens, notebooks crash.

Spidery tendons, ghostly vents.
There are things in here I cannot describe.
Things that rage
Things that petrify
Things that, try as I might
Must never see my candlelight