watch the walls creak and groan in understatement,
watch them quiver in the dreadful
anticipation
of finality in all it’s entirity;
fraying and
decaying
oh
so
slowly
oh
so
quietly
like termites;
in the walls,
like parasites
in the walls,
burrowing into the softest flesh
as the house screams and screams
till
mercifully, it splits at the seams
trailing a stone cold trail of
regrettably and
passably boring reminders
plastered on the fridge,
on top of one
on top of another in
nameless numbers
that nullify necessity
int he middle of something
tattered,
something torn
