JaCkeD iN tHe hOuSe thaT wAS wAck BUILT
I went to a house which was not a house I opened a door that was not a door and what I saw I saw.
Broken mirrors in the attic, addict reflecting addict, each one staring back emphatic, while bouncing off the wall.
Let sleeping dogs lie if they can't tell the truth, turn a lazy blind eye and taste a rotten tooth.
Perhaps the one eyed cat has an untold story to tell, about the hitchhiker puffing pipe dreams with horrific fairy tales to tell.
Once upon times ending tragically ever after, in the diary in calligraphy written cursed with complacency for disaster.
The audacity of such blasphemy the revelations in the fabrications enthralled with blurry vision the misspelled writing's on the wall.
It's not fantastic fantasies it's unfathomable realities, the ungrateful and unfaithful deny the truth even when they see the proof.
It sounds paranoid and ridiculous maybe fictitiously inconspicuous that I believe the bastards out to get me but maybe you should believe it too.
Because you may or may not believe in the devil, some don't and some do,believe it or not the one thing that's certain, THE DEVIL DAMN SURE BELIEVES IN YOU. I closed a door that was not a door, I went hence forth from a house which was not a house, and what I've seen can't be unseen.
Copyright © Crystal Floyd | Year Posted 2020
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