room 408

stop. wait.

were you about to enter room 408?

before you commit,

there’s something you must see.

something awful lurks inside,

the current victim count is three.

it’s resided for years, it refuses to leave.

it might’ve been human once,

(if that rumor can be believed).

through the peephole-see the man in the chair?

he’s all shriveled up,

but he has too much hair.

his clothes are clean, but too big to wear.

skin too loose, sagging to his toes

an off-color oily something, dripping from his nose.

teeth too large, too sharp, and eyes much too yellow and wide,

now stop-look away-

and don't go inside.

room 409

there are thumps in the wall.

hush- do you hear it?

in the room next door.

awful loud, shall we check what it is?

wait-hush-

...

("what is it?")

I said hush, I can't quite hear.

I think their radiator’s broken, or some howling vent

wait-there’s something whispering.

(“what do they say?”)

...

“be silent.

if you had any sense,

you'd stay away

lest you experience:

a monstrous existence.”

The writer of this poem wrote: I kinda wanna be a ghost. I think that'd be cool