Bauhaus

He was in his room, half awake, half asleep
The walls of the room seem to alter angles
Elongating and shrinking alternately
Then twisting around completely so that he was on the opposite side of the room
A trick of the light and too much caffeine, he thought
Then came a knock on the door
And this sound was the same dark-brown tone as the wood of which the door was made
At first, he thought hed imagined it
Because it would not have been out of place with the other strange hallucinatory events of that night
But then it came again
Only heavier this time
With a sense of real urgency
So pulling himself up
And stepping through pools of moonlight and shadow
He made his bleary way across the room towards the door
And slowly, apprehensively, raised the latch
The latch became a fingertip, touching his own
Energy sapping as a new form, transversing the edge of his emotions
His power became his agony, his power knew no bounds
Whereas before, his peace withstood the vastness
His prerogative became an endless force of the all impossible
His final soul is flying with contempt only
Even the legendary glance backward to meet with eternitys stone in peace or save his already destroyed
You cannot share, the temperature is rising
The ghost and monkeys make a choice