Here.
I baked you a cake, and it is
made from my insides,
ribboned and plucked with tenderness,
frosted with the bile
in my throat from our last
phone call.
Please, watch your step,
the ceiling is coming apart
as it decided it was never even
actually there.
I pick up the pieces but only
turn around to find more.
Don't mind the clock, it's stuck
in a different timeline
and when I blink time lapses
around my eyes as
burnt film in a projector,
it is a flipbook eulogy in a
ghost's hands.
By the way, the sinkhole in
the floor asks questions
when it gets hungry, like
"why did you come here, if you
always knew you were going
to leave?"
And that's rude to say to
someone who's just visiting.
But don't give it any scraps or
it will never stop.
I hope you like your room,
I made it up special just for you.
All the prayers I sent to God
about you are scrawled
along all the walls, so you
have something to read
should you find it difficult to
remember where you are.
Or where I am, contorted
and silent
under the floorboards,
I know you like to keep your
secrets underfoot.
And lastly,
run,
don't walk when you leave,
the house likes to keep
souvenirs.
© Copyright 2025 Mars August. All rights reserved.
Regular reviews are a general comments about the work read. Provide comments on plot, character development, description, etc.
In-line reviews allow you to provide in-context comments to what you have read. You can comment on grammar, word usage, plot, characters, etc.
And again, I don’t know exactly why I like your style, but I do. There’s something ‘in the moment’ about it, I guess. It’s like you ‘don’t mind the clock, it’s stuck in a different timeline.’ The hungry sinkhole in the floor, the disintegrating ceiling…. so random, so right now. The therapy of whining (as you say of yourself) is powerful and good (it’s what I’ve told my wife over and over — she nods, sighs, and says uh-huh, will you please shut up haha).
Great work, really. I read this about 4 times, just to enjoy the words -- like the house who keeps souvenirs. It may be 'whining' to you, but it's a fresh cup of coffee in the morning to me.
whatta
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It might be that I have no education of meter and I just make a mess of it haha. Thank you, again, friend. That is quite a compliment.
That was fun to read, almost like music lyrics, with many of the good elements of horror stories written in the 19th century. Edgar Allen Poe and Charles Dickens come to mind.
I especially liked "It is a flip book eulogy in a ghost's hand.
Welcome to the workshop.
Author
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Thank you for taking the time to read. That's a big compliment and I hope to creep you out further in the future!
P.S. That is my favorite line in the poem! I am happy you like it.
I too am unlettered re the mechanics of poetry but the entire piece has a balance and flow, a natural subflooring (see what I did there?) that lets the reader make their way through your "House" just fine. Even though the bare bones are a riff on the house idea, the emotion always fills it out.
The emotions that appear to me are, in turn, anger, sorrow, self-abnegation, contempt, the hollow feeling of loss or feeling like a ghost. I think this is a young person's poem, and not just be seeing your profile pic. I don't know if it would make a good song but I'd love to heart someone attempt it (lapsed musician talking).
well done
This was such a delightful read - somehow creepy, dark, and a little funny all at once. You put line breaks in the perfect places to create a sense of rhyme and rhythm. I love the way it flows like a poem, but tells a story at the same time. I'm not a huge poetry reader, but I love the sort of horror-ish undertone on this one.
Hi... I don't think we've met, but I wanted to say welcome to the site... I hope you stay for a long time. I've been here 17 years, and there's something new going on here every day, even though our numbers seem small.
This poem is breathtaking in its rawness—equal parts haunting and tender. It reads like a surreal love letter wrapped in grief and longing, layered with dark metaphors that pulse with emotional truth. The imagery is striking and visceral, from the bile-frosted cake to the sinkhole that asks too much.
There's pain here, but also a deep generosity—the speaker still prepares a room, still offers something of themselves. It’s chilling, yes, but also strangely beautiful.
And I don't usually read poetry! I loved this!
Happy trails,
MJ
Wow, this poem made me feel so many different things! The imagery is outstanding and the tone is just the perfect balance between creepy/eerie and emotional. It's compelling and beautiful, while also haunting, almost like physically walking through an abandoned or haunted house while reading it! So many stand out lines, a few of my favs: "Don't mind the clock, it's suck in a different time line, and when I blink time lapses around my eyes as burnt film in a projector, it's a flipbook eulogy in a ghost's hands." That whole section is so hauntingly beautiful and really captures the mood of the entire piece. Great work!!
This poem reads like a nightmare, in a good way.
It's almost like a someone visiting a memory of loved one passed on.
The images are absolutely terrifying and right out of a nightmare.
We've all been there, in a dream we can't escape from.
This is definitely a great piece!
whatta