Rocka Rocka Rocka. Footsteps on the stairs. Do I dare, says Prufrock. Do I dare peer through that dilapidated door? Peer out into that darkness? Darkness that should be empty But most certainly isn’t. No. Instead it teems with chaos, With things that inhabit Dark corners of my twisted dreams. Legs Arms Eyes Missing. Black goo where those Tender lips Once were, those lips that Caressed mine so gently Long ago. She is no more. A monster lies in wait With such a familiar face. It belongs to ancient lore.