Paneling 1992

Phantoms lurk in woodwork-soul buzzards.

Remnants of a soul, once spirited,

Linger on to prolong

The slow death

Of an optimistic child

Now worn to a leathery

Poisoned shell of a woman

All that's left

Are tears of a child

Falling

Streaming

Screaming

Reaching for someone

Who no longer reaches back.

Death teases agony to climax

Last breath gasping,

"Why, Love?"