The Back Wards of S. Drawkcab
Beyond the shifting ruins of the old asylum, Past the algae padded ponds and pebbles, Even farther than the sidewalks wind, Sits the Back Wards of S. Drawkcab. The Back Wards loom in lingering shadows, Hiding behind cloaks of dark intrigue, Smiling sinisterly from cracked windows, Inviting the fearless to face fear. Through twisting corridors covered in case files, Down hallways harboring fugitive hacksaws, Up creaking stairs ascending to something like sunlight, Into the endless demise of demons. They crawl on the walls like spider children, Dissolve through air only to reappear, there! Do you feel a hot, sweet breath down your neck? They’re behind you. They’re wrapping their tiny fingertips in your own. They look up with lonely lack luster eyes. You shudder as they smile with sickly teeth, saliva dripping; Cringe when the caress your arm with ungroomed scalps. Yes, shudder, cringe, draw, detest, despise, cower, cry! Do whatever you must to escape their eternity! Catch a cab to your gated castle and crocodile moat. Do not fall victim to the victims. A mirror greets you as you turn to flee; A billion faces blink back at you from fragmented glass. They all scream safety at you, slipping from their shackles. You surround yourself and have no way out. Commit yourself to insanity as the sane way to live, Treat yourself with cold baths in electric drugs, Isolate yourself in padded rooms and embrace your restraints, Comfort yourself in soft murmurous rockings and pacings. Beyond the shifting ruins of the old asylum, Past the algae padded ponds and pebbles, Even farther than the sidewalks wind, Sits the Back Wards of S. Drawkcab. Sits you.