21:35
A house for the dead
which only has one floor.
Coffins and urns shoved
and rearranged within all
available gaps. Corpse-neighbours
rattle in protest, dead flesh
whacking at wood invaders
in their dead-space.
Respect amongst the departed?
Decay-stench in protest,
ignored by noses that no
longer work. Throats trying
to remember forming words,
shouts, a way to be heard.
The lights are shut off
for the night.
They remain silent, dead to the world.
Scribbled Thoughts 