When I am in it I am alive
But when I awake I die
For those moments lights do not turn dim
They do not fade or explode into flashes of gold
Death must come but not today
Light must shine but not for much longer

The house is not black or gray
Everything seems the same to me
But not one brick is where it used to be
Now Marigolds line the walls

Chairs do not speak they have lost their tongues
They are hidden under seat cushions
Pushed in between carpet and carapace

Those who are dead are once again alive
They have risen from their graves
Piecing themselves back together, grain by grain
Dust turned to skin and blood and bones
Now they're walking with me, they're speaking to me
Still I cannot understand them
Just like the kitchen table they have no heartbeat

Above its floorboard head hangs the calendar
The dates are all washed away
Today is not today when tomorrow cannot come
The door is my only exit but it is only an entrance
It leads me to darkened starlight and clouded harlots

The driveway is not concrete but just a pilot light
Its shining bright underneath my toe nails
The wheels are spinning faster now
Water whizzes past my ears
It's crashing upon the hood above my head
I'm sliding across the floor
The road is missing beneath me

My body is still, I've turned to stone
My hands are twisting to open my tomb
The light should be turning to blackness
But the blackness isn't something I'm used to

Learn more about this author, Scott Woznicki.
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