The Manse

Where vague shadows dance with silhouettes

to the percussion of questionable white noise

old, porcelain figurine wall flowers look on

dusty and chipped they try to retain their poise

threadbare carpets smell like musty cat piss

through broken glass, moth-eaten drapes sway

gray mouse turds and empty wino bottles litter

and the stars cannot penetrate, dispelling gloom away

old crimson stains are now faded brindle brown

on wallpaper stripping like a ten buck whore

long lost evidence of blood-curdling screams

attrocities of evil committed sometime long before

as the last fetid grains of sand try to escape

what’s left of the evil that lurks in the night

the porcelain figurines curse disgruntled oaths

to dancing silhouette and shadows feigned delight

‘tis the hour vermin return to sleep inverted

for the spectral orchestra to depart the stage

for unearthly dancers bow to partners one last time

the desecrated last waltz to disengage…