Seek Not The House Down the Street

Seek not the house down the street

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In light, it hides in plain sight

But after dusk, no streetlight will hit that house

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Tales speak of addicts and runaways

Hiding in a dank haven; But even they know better

The house was poorly built on a broken foundation

Every nail hit; outlined by a cursed blueprint

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Only those with a fortuitous heart can make it back out

Yet those who dare to venture

Never seem to fit that bill

They become willing victims

To fall under its dark spell

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Should you find yourself fumbling at the gate

Beware of the poorly patched cement

It may look even to the eye

But many have fallen before they reached the steps

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Don’t bother knocking

The door’s creak will be louder than any rap your knuckles can create

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As you break the threshold the stench will hit you first

Be careful not to choke

On the smell of death and decay

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It’s not worth struggling with the light switches

And that may be for the best

For the slight of moonlight

Is ample enough to illuminate the piles of rotting food

The waste is better left in the dark

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On rare occasions; the revolting scene will trigger a fear

They are the lucky ones

This spark reminds them; they have something to fight for

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Those with broken souls

They’re the easiest catch

The house envelops them

With a dread that feels like home

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Should you press forward

Be sure to tip toe around the decrepit boards

For each step sends another chunk of wet wood cascading down below

So far, that you won’t even hear it land

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Know this, by the time you reach the stairs, the house becomes so dark

That many have almost missed them

With each step the dark beings to spin

Do as the others

They ran their fingers upon the peeling walls

Anything to derive a sense of belief

That maybe they were walking straight

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As they reach the top of the steps

Their ears begin to tingle at a familiar noise

A soft reminder of their childhood

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While they follow the noise

A respite of flickering light leaks from below a doors crack

Even if they wanted to, their feet could not turn away

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On the other side sits a room with no windows

With nothing but a cushioned chair and an ancient tv

It plays the same electric winter

The one you’ve seen countless times

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They may try to change the channel

But the static soon pulls them in

Their eyes begin to glaze

As they helplessly fall into the cushioned seat

They fixate on their only remaining source of light

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Sloth overtakes their will

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It is not the house nor the demons that will steal your last breath

But each moment you sit there frozen

You forget how to eat, to drink, even to stand

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Heed my warning

And don’t venture to where the streetlights have gone out

Or your hours are numbered

Until you forget how to breathe