Windows streaked in cold sweat
Rooms thronged in laughter
Malign volition pushed me back into his fray
The hall, empty, yet pregnant with presence
No more translations. I must get out!
Footsteps on the stairs, not his
Dead machine will, repetition mesmerism
Forces me down the hall
Blood, ice thick in front of arcane light
His room burst in to abhorrent scene
By some rite he'd evoked a shade
Together the body parts in a heap laid
Murdered mound, I walked over. It spoke:
Afterwards
There is a silence
Since we have said farwell
and beauty with an alien speech
an alien would tell