Death, man. Death.
He’s at the doorstep,
put the key in the door he has,
now he’s coming up the stairs, man.
Do you not hear the creaking floorboards?….
the first few steps creak,
but he doesn’t know to walk
on the outside ones like you do,
he just walks up the middle, death.
Doesn’t know everything, does he?
Then there’s silence and he’s on the landing
but he dithers for a second, noiselessly,
like all the times you dithered man,
like your whole fu<ken life in other words.
His head turns uncertainly,
but he knows, he knows man.
and he walks towards your door.
He knows you’re in there.
The door handle man.
You can’t see it move,
but you hear rusty springs in the dark,
you feel death's weight on your mattress.
“Well,” he says…


Reply With Quote


