Halls Of Hollow Homes

An odd dream I had once

We walked without care through skeletal ribs of hollow homes

Square glass eyes looking out through polished bone,

Vacant but not void, forsaken but not despoiled

The whole city was at the parade while we stalked the shadows tripping on nightshade.

In their beds we laid, in their dens we played, we danced in their clothes to broken songs that we made.

We were host to surrogate lives through portraits on the walls

Stalking vicarious through pictured frames in the halls

The taste of foreign tongues in our mouths

Living out lives of those we knew nothing about