PM 1310043
The surface is bright white, sparkling
when clean enamel, it brings out many
of the blemishes right to the forefront,
much like my personality, out in the open
yet hidden down a dark hallway
the doors all have cobwebs on them and
there is nothing to direct you to which
one to open.
People walk through this corridor
every once in a while but they fear to
open the doors,
strange noises come from the insides
and it makes more sense to run than it
does to investigate.
Sometimes I sit out in the hallway
preparing ginger tea,
not to impress, just to settle my stomach
and I get the strange leer,
the dead eye,
and I cringe in my chair hoping that
nobody is on to me,
and I crawl back into the room leaving
the smell of boiled ginger in my wake.
Its cool behind the door, and I play the
ever-looping tape of eerie noises and
dog's barking, just to keep everyone
else at bay.
Nobody would dare open the door with
any idea of what was going on in there.
A very lonely man, alone, sipping from a
mug of ginger tea, wondering why the world
chose to pass him by, why his neon did not
light up, the gas didn't pass through the right
connections and left him lifeless.
The neon flashes so brightly in Las Vegas
beckoning all those stupid enough
to give their life over to reckless abandon
for a weekend of thrills and a plastic beer mug
full of tokens.
I toss my neon back into the clouds and bid
it a fond farewell,
my journey has to be different and with the
difference it becomes much darker,
an unlit path, careful on the turns
and stay out of the corners, there might be
something awful in there.
Who can resist not going onto the corners,
I am unable and even though I know I
shouldn't, I still venture inside every
time I am confronted by one.
MCC
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