Thorn in a Storm

an empty room cardboard boxes full of postcards and mismatched socks black and grey on a cold windy night living by candlelight in a place outside time with no pain and no delight a widow by the window watches the garden and the graves withering flowers broken glass the monster is waiting outside the locked door she calls it thorn in a storm piercing eyes so surprised to see you again razor thin and you go right in find the pain that never ends and they've all fallen down the lost spirits and the leaves those who fell from the moon were fed with a spoon til they choked and coughed it up a letter and a photograph in a sticky dresser draw fading memories of a man who laughs withering flowers broken glass the monster is waiting outside the locked door she calls it thorn in a storm piercing eyes so surprised to see you again razor thin and you go right in find the pain that never ends a picket fence surrounds this land of mist at night she hears a knocking like a banging fist and she says that this house of moths the cost of disease i just want to make my ambition one with your need and they've all fallen down the lost spirits in the rain those who fell from the sun were the hungry ones feeding on each other until they were battered and worn leaving nothing but a thorn in the storm from the day you were born he's been hunting your scent dogs bark somewhere out in the fog sometimes she can hear the croak of a frog and then he says this house of moths the cost of disease i just want to make your decision one with my greed