by Eddy James
Slanted ceilings dripping with spiderwebs.
The walls shudder, like a dead man’s last breath.
Floorboards lie rotting beneath careful feet.
Halls wander. They have no end. Forever.
Wrought-iron bedframes sit cold in the dark.
Bathroom stalls with no one inside. Empty.
Dust motes hang, suffocating on the air.
Anemic sodium streetlights outside.
There is a dying heartbeat here. Listen.
One small, single word, remains unanswered.