I see the mound beneath the folds.
I hear your muffled screams,
and the thuds and scrapes across the floor.
I feel your tremor.
and sense your presence.
My questions crawl in the dark.
Dust swallows my thoughts.
I am crouched, contorted and sealed.
I am a quickened sinner,
and harbor bottomless thoughts.
My fingers outline the days,
seen and unseen.
Where is the key?