The statue waits.
Frozen in its tears.
Standing in the cold.
Weathering all storms.
Will someone come for it?
Will it be saved?
Questions not to be answered.
Only to be thought by the dead.
Monday, February 29, 2016
TRAPPED
Trapped in my own hell.
One small window to the world.
Trapped in my own mind.
Eyes searching for the truth.
Trapped in my own despair.
Sadness my only friend.
Trapped like this forever.
With no one to hear.
THE HOUSE
Source:florpoetis
A house sitting alone.
Keeping its secrets close.
Watching all who pass.
Taking all who enter.
Living.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Do we dare?
How could we not?
End House in Oasis.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
THE GREENHOUSE
Source:m-alfvnction
A green house in Florida.
Greenery and wildlife to the brim.
Trees with life of their own.
Birds unseen but heard.
Limbs reaching.
Grabbing for the next visitor.
Snakes slithering in their cages.
Wings flapping in the next room.
Surprises in store.
And so much more.
Come and join us.
THE DEAD GAME
A NIGHT AT END HOUSE
Source:disposableheroin
Candles fill the night.
Candles light the way.
Down the long corridor.
Past leering portraits.
Peeling wallpaper.
A door to the basement.
Slippery stairs.
One hanging lightbulb.
Door locks.
Basement fills with water.
Pointy traps fall from the ceiling.
Followed by circular saws.
A nightmare?
No.
A night at End House in Oasis.
THE DEAD GAME
WELCOME
Source:lifeisthefight
You are finally here.
Welcome.
The Dead are waiting.
For you.
THE DEAD GAME
SKIN AND BONES
Skin and bones.
That’s all we are.
Easy to break.
Easy to fall.
Don’t fall apart.
Keep strong.
Keep fit.
in mind.
In body.
And in soul.
Source:
FALLING
A heart-shaped pool
to break my fall.
A cold wetness
to entomb me.
Depths to reach
below the surface.
I am falling
with no one to catch me.
But a cold wetness.
OUTSIDE MY DOOR
“Institute Benjamenta” (1995)
dir. Timothy Quay, Stephen Quay
Has he come for me?
I hear his footsteps.
Walking up the steps.
All turns quiet.
The leaves stop rustling.
The wind stops blowing.
The silence is overpowering.
A strangle hold on my nerves.
Is he standing outside the door?
Waiting for me to open it.
I won’t.
I won’t let him in.
He wants me.
I won’t become one of The Dead.
THE DEAD GAME
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