Cryptesthesia

This house has been abandoned for a long time

Not many come here anymore

But I still do

The signs of people are still here

The messages scribbled on walls

Empty bottles and cans

Discarded cigarette butts

A vile, non-working, but still used, toilet

A brown stained mattress in one bedroom

The leftover wrappers, formerly belonging to now used condoms

There are traces of activity left by animals

A semi-devoured cat

Claw marks and the work of jaws and teeth on baseboards

Droppings which litter every room

The house itself in rather unlivable disdain

There is a foul smell of decay and mold

Warped floorboards and rotting walls

A sunken roof, alive with growing moss

Some might attribute the ‘cold spots’ to cryptesthesia

Perhaps long past dwellers

Locked away in here forever

But I see them differently

Like comforting old friends

Always abuzz when I come by

Serenading me with creaks and scratches

From other rooms and behind walls

Like a complimentary performance

Of vocal music in the open air at night

As if by a lover, thrilled to see me again

Like comforting old friends

Even if I don’t stay long

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

 

 

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