Drive up the hill to the valley of pain,
Sunshine here feels heavy as rain,
Bold brave logic to explain,
Whirring gadgets buzz and drain,
Quantify, verify what your heart tells your brain,
Before the door, you must pass the gate.

Distant windows broken and opaque,
Mirages or a weary face,
Motion or a restless mind,
Dead but too alive,
This house of infinite time.

Reach out to the knob on the door,
You touch it and it touches you,
The cold metal on your skin,
This house has taken it's first sip,
You felt your heat drain.

The air is heavy with the house's restraint,
It's eager to feel full again,
You're reading it,
But it reads you just the same,
Tonight it will earn it's fame.

Quick to tease and play it's game,
A creaky floorboard without a weight,
A pulse on the needle and a blink of the light,
A charge in the air,
And a crow goes to flight.

Your heart thumps in your ears,
Your eyes go to tears,
You witness this moment in hot white,
Never recall it's touch
Don't breath into it this new life.

Murder House

May 7, 2015