You turn the knob counterclockwise
And the door, freshly framed, creeks open
Into the apartment. Complex
Emotions wind through you,
You can’t put your finger on it,
Although you feel you oughta be able to,
And they’re crooning
About the same things
Or are they, thinking
About the real things
Or are they, in this dimly lit room.

You venture, the floor creeks too, further
Into the kitchen, past the dining room,
Where they sat like mannequins
With their arms splayed,
With their legs crossed,
Or were they
Standing with just smiles spread
Across both their empty faces,
Or were they torn
Out circular voids,
Into the hallway that contains
A bathroom
In between two bedrooms.
You push open the bathroom door,
Already cracked opened,
It’s dark but
You can see the tub half filled with blood.

It’s only upon waking
You realise
It was only,
A fabrication
Of a world,
Of your own.


In That Time

Find solace in the evidential,
In the gains from love’s chase
From desperately trying to
Find metallic splinters to
Form those keys to
Unlock those doors where
Fragments of knowledge
Would be found in mystery,
Because that experience
In trying to even understand
A millimeter
On a seemingly endless ruler
Pushed you further
Than anything ever could.

Even it meant that
Every magical moment
Never happened.


Discounted meteor showers;
Sightings sorely missed in time lapses
Due to restricted circumstances.

Fickle shutter speeds
Opening and closing;
Intentions in aperatures of
Distorted isometric patterns.
Adversity’s worthiness
In illusions of craters by asteroid
Impacts of miscalculated velocities
For actual disintergrating deterioration
Of meteoric debris.

How I wonder,
How many glowing trails
Sparkled and fell, and their locations,
And how they may have never
At all.