a tarnished silver tray
in the flickering
candlelight
of a darkened room
fruit
long into rot
moulders
under the constant buzz
of flies
crawling
with fat maggots
the wallpaper
hangs in tattered strips
from
warped wooden boards
heavy cobwebs
with fattened
black spiders
wrapping feasts
of quivering forms

she sits
alone
mascara running
in thick black lines
down
gaunt cheeks
a torn red dress
one high heel
another
lays with a broken heel
next to
a bare
filthy foot
broken nails
on
bloody fingertips
a dented brass crown
sits crookedly
over
bloody bald patches
wear long blonde hair
was torn out

the dusty room where hope lay beaten, a soliloquy of one