It is so much more than an empty room.
It breathes.
Quietly.
I see deep into these tarnished walls.
I have only to press my palm to the surface.
And it moves slowly beneath my fingertips.
The smouldering shifting amber like unconscious.
That deep dark red.
Rusted metal beneath my feet.
So far down.
Hot stagnant echo.
Am I so far underground i cannot see the dark of soil.
Oh, if these walls could talk.
They would speak the language of nightmares.
 
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