Invitation

Enter, this way, don't mind the dank shadow-crawling tunnel, nothing has lived here for years. Antechamber ahead, no need to crouch now. In this chill hall you can admire a black moon pinned to an even darker sky. So far, you have just been reading my thoughts, now you may discern my mouth and one bloodshot eye, fear not, I am just a patchwork poet, other parts of me are buried here and there. In the next room you can talk to your own ears. There is a musical box in the corner where the sullen arias of snails and puppy dog tails are endlessly edited. Enter now this shambling duplex apartment, here there are two of me, both leading a double life. All available light can be controlled by a dimmer switch. You will know where to find it, it is implanted between ecstasy and loathing. Relax, I have provided a bed of bones for you. Unfortunately, moles have ravaged my writing tablet, I can only scratch poetry on mole hills now, however, the upturned earth is still rich and loamy, and the little creatures tirelessly check my spelling, even though I can hardly see my words anymore. Please note, that these musings have been sent by those supersonic bats that translate for us a whole world of silence.