Searching

.... dreams are dripping from the ceiling

Dust and cobwebs; spiders and moths

Invisible monsters trace fingerprints over my past

I found a bag belonging to Jon Fritts

Maybe it’s a serial killer or my imagination

But no one would believe me anyways

I even have a location of his last affair

It’s a hotel room number

The rag and chloroform is all still there

But no one will believe me or

Dare

I was up all night searching through cobwebs and dust for something that wasn’t there and I know you care. I’m right where he wants me. Broken home no key.