This smell is like no other
It is entirely inescapable
Rising like hot air in this little room
Makes me scream, it makes me cry
Any logical person would shake their head and laugh
At my theories
Of corpses, of angry ghosts, of people with limbs flexed in the wrong direction
This room is not welcoming
It is pushing me out with its solidness, its solidarity, its smell
The walls are nodding and sneering at me
They look to one another and conceive plans
To push me away
Or, to crush me in my sleep, mangling my bones and flesh into mattress
With pajamas unrecognizable from skin
With hair wrapped around my throat
And both my arms asleep
Until I have become absorbed, like them
I shall haunt, haunt:
Burn my own flesh, sing songs in minor keys and breed horrible smells
In preparation
For the next one.