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The Crystal (Part II of A True Experience)

the multi-storey perhaps three storey
grim and desolate building
-so dark and devoid of love-
struck me like the one i saw recently
in Wuthering Heights, the 1930s
black and white British film

as the dream came on,
something inside told me,
it was a building where such
a chilling tragedy did strike

shadows, echoes and a
menacing atmosphere overran
the rundown building
there was no door except
an opening to a dark interior
cold as caves

Wuthering Heights where memories
only cut through the heart and wounds
to set them bleeding once more

the beau and belle so
completely overwhelmed by love
their despair still eats up
every moment here

my family quite strangely
i thought were all up there
looking at the furniture,
decor, relics perhaps

i felt the rush to join them
but was held back by the
intimidating atmosphere
that resulted in a drenched feeling

flitting bats threw their shadows
as they looked relentlessly for a corner
to hook on as home

a big black dog barked
from the dark hall, another one ran
onto the scene but miserably failed
to warm the place up

a middle aged depressive
looking caucasian male
walked from one side of the buidling
stared at me, before i was summoned
back to the darkness of my room

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