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when all around is beating at the walls,
my friend
take solace in the long-fingered beasts that prowl
these unhappy corridors
drenched in bad taste and phony smiles
the hapless wanderer in these dark and looming passages
take cover and let yourself unfold
like the much thumbed paper of an old love letter
penned by hands now twisted and stiff
how he waited.
till the walls closed in
and she became but a lost child
face burning through a newspaper cutting
with all the threat of resurrection
and the sharp tang of deceit
a poison heavy on your tongue.