I wake to footprints in dust where stillness slept,
and there—a door painted in moonlight
that wasn’t here before.
Its frame bleeds cold into the hallway,
a wound torn through familiar walls.
I press my palm to its surface,
feeling distant murmurs coil under the varnish.
The rusted knob turns with a groan
like something dying,
spills a breath of rot across my neck.
Inside: a room I never knew.
Wallpaper of half-remembered rooms
peeling into black tears.
Floorboards pulse under my boots,
each step a slow concussion
drilling into my spine.
On the far wall, a mirror smears reflection—
eyes sunken,
a grin stretched thin as slaughterhouse jokes.
She’s there.
Pale hair curling over cracked lips,
eyes full of secrets I’d never dared confess.
She raises one pale finger to her throat,
mimics my name
in a rasp that tastes of broken glass.
Blood clots in my throat.
I choke on traces of her laughter,
trapped inside these walls.
The door slams shut behind me—
a clap that cracks bone.
The lock clicks like a guillotine.
I’m condemned to wander
this geometry of fear.
Dust motes swirl like moths
drawn to a corpse’s lantern,
circling to the pitch of distant sobs.