bradford graham west

 

 

all is dark in the attic,

all is dark in the attic!! –

cold and solitude.

there,  i can seek and no one will find.

because the shadows do not live here – anymore!

no one will find whats in the chest,  locked and stowed away.

the blood of anger,  rage  and sadness – dwells and never dries

always,  forever flowing in veins that can not escape!!

alas!  the silence in which you live in,  forever stays in conversation.

the axe tells the story but cannot speak –

its tongue is on the floor;   fear seeps thick in the attic!!

fear so thick

you can feel it whispering itself all over your skin.

the axe is stained and now covered with webs of deceit!!

the wooded clapboard creaks slowly as the nights chilled wind lazily drifts by.

a moon beam squeaks through and peaks through a crack in the wooded chest –

and shone in cold eyes that everlastingly stay awake.

for the distant doomed,  damnable laugh still echos in the halls –

but the shadows do not live here!!

nay!  the shadows do not live here – anymore!!

all is dark in the attic!!

all is dark in the attic!! –

cold and solitude.

there,  i can seek and no one will find me,

the shadows do not live here – anymore!!

 

 

c. 2014 bgw

 

 

 

 

 

 

This entry was posted on July 17, 2014 at 1:00 pm and is filed under Uncategorized with tags alone, dark, darkness, death, literature, memories, murder, poe like, poetry, typing, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.