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The noise scrambles inside my brain, rodents scratching at the walls in my head,
Impossible to find, the elusive monsters flicker shadows just out of reach.
The edges wear thin, dripping down sugar coated into the waiting mouths of beasts,
Dissolving with a fizzle POP and the acrid smell of sulfur seeping into the floor.
I
Do
Not
Live
Here
Salt stretched statues, pitted as though time grew bored and began carving ancient
Ruins into the depths of their concrete skin, permeated with a mix of blood and sweat.
The lone bonsai sways curiously in the no longer breeze, leaves babbling in cacophony sending
Claustrophobic shoots into the water clotted earth. The last alive, through stubborn force of luck.
I
Do
Not
Live
Here
Ancient dreams twisted through time, distorted into cages and glasses and roses, leaving their
Thorns beneath the skin; rest their heads on the sky as they peer into the maze.
Laughter scattering sound into echoes of corners, jangling bones with a CLANG! Until they
Collide and die out, extinct as those that came before. Dust settling back into patterns of silence.
I
Do
Not
Live
Here
Tinsel drapes the tree, shiny little worms reflecting and deflecting gazes back away; their tendrils threading through the landscape, clutching at dirt and silence and shadows of what once was.
Beneath the Silky whispers of silver and red and green, bright gaudy flashes sending violent messages of everything is OK. Beneath the glitter the rats have made their nest, infiltrating as the brilliance blinded all.
No
thing
Lives
Here
Anymore.
Beneath the wells of it all, memories drip into pools of acid, until silence follows the with a soft, final, HISSSSS.