Splintered tales breathe unevenly from the edge of hinges
Knocking echoes with confessions unwelcome. Lock-rust collects
as stories shun themselves from eyes unseen. Who dares listen,
gives credence to realms murmured until midnight.
Underneath wear and chaos, secrets scribe
themselves unto the cosmos in ink unseen. Shadows
weave beneath veneer, gathering pieces of whispered
truth. Eyes roll off surfaces sleek, never noticing the
confessions etched by gremlins of disorder.