vestibule of a desk disowned
where the poet once foamed
at mouth like a passionate
rabid animal- and its polished
oak stained with anxious
bloodsobs, wanton regrets
and what else?
irredeemable utterances
chiseled in glyphs upon
that dulled and sullen surface,
like portals of relentless hell
seeming to whisper slick, haunted
secrets from another dimension