Very recently I was invited to a presentation of new stories of the macabre, read by their authors. So, Ali Littlewood, this is dedicated to you, inspired by that reading. Many thanks.
This is the shop of shattered illusions,
Ante room to a peculiar type of hell;
Enter here full of hopes
To have them all dispelled.
It is the stuff of nightmares,
Your wildest darkest dreams,
The door bell greets you
With a cacophony of screams.
The track in the background
Is of a clanking rattling chain
Accompanied by the moans
Of a being in utter pain.
As soon as you enter
The desire is to escape
From the Stygian gloom
Of this place of mental rape.
Where every second is
A week, every minute a year
And a writhing shaken brain
Silently yells get out of here
.Outside of the doorway,
Ashen faced shaking white
They all turn for a surreptitious
Last confirmation sight;
But the shop of shattered illusions
Doesn't stay anywhere for long
And before they can see it
It's disappeared, disintegrated, gone.
