I saw you through a blackened window, the one you took great care to shade. But how could you know, your long shadow casts stories and histories, and how far, how deep, how wide, and how low.
You own your home and the tricks you build brick by brick…so imposing and beyond reproach. How impressive are the shoulders upon which so many worlds rest and depend.
But from this end, I clearly see silhouetted sins, feel gloved beats and pulsing heat, confessions heaving every heavy breath.
Your bleached pillars and stucco façade erode and blow away in choking clouds of powdered decay.
And there they are…mouldy beams, moist and stinking, black and green as vintage envy. And lo! each carefully fortified wall keeps the sickness in, hidden, unsullied by fiends like me.
But I do see, truthfully: you, too, are diseased humanity.