Swarming in,
The mosquitoes fly,
And sting you upon your,
Exposed flesh;
Open the vein that runs golden.

Allow the charcoal ink,
To run into the exposed and unlocked vein,
And taint it black.

Let the river begin to seep,
And bleed onto the floor.
Let your toes outline the ecclesiastical terrazzo,
With the crimson iron.

Dabble in that pool,
And smear it towards the door,
Let the wind boil and coagulate it,
While the crucifix hangs idly,
Upside down above your door.

You can feel the tears,
Running down your arm,
From the wooden man,
And you’ll grab your umbrella.

You can coast out the door,
Leaving the smoke from your cigar drape expectantly,
In front of the mirror,
And eventually dissipate,
Into the walls.

Just remember,
As you come in the next day,
And a nameless Beast,
Greets you with his hat,
And serpentine staff,
The wooden man hangs,
In vertigo.