"Between the staircase and the door,
There is a place that we ignore

Irrational and immanent, a fear of hollow space
Though perhaps some reason can be reached
When standing in that place

I’ll deceive you not, the floors don’t creak
Nor have four stable walls aged weak

In appearance one might be misled
Though let comeliness not force your tread

In fact I’d swear that room at first
Consumes the passerby with thirst
Unexplainable it seems
To quench- a nightmare, forged of dreams

Though with impudent disregard we step
As one foolish foot, precedes the next
Confusion follows there of course
Of your despair, you’ll be the source"

And while the speaking hands fell still
They discovered where my eyes now stare-
Oh how stubborn my own will
To disobey the stifling pair