Locust

I don't expect a response from you and I won't try to elicit one, I

stroke your walls as I prowl along, they seem to be so strong, your

windows are on their own, they are letting in a steady blow, I can hear

the wings of the locust, but it doesn't seem to matter much. I don't

trust your corridors, why do I hear the timber groan? I'm getting

closer, hitting rooms no light has shown, I like the fixtures, I adore

the woodwork, I lay prone, making out faces in the plaster, my fingers

probing the molding for a trigger. Volumes of polaroids, commemorate

nothing to speak of, to speak of, there are whole sections of this house

not on the floor plan, and I will ransack 'til I find myself an entry.

You can't afford to let me go on searching for a motive, you've got to

assure me, don't allow me to doubt, produce the passkey satisfy my

suspicions, will you trick me to co-author your plans, elaborate plans.