Dark walls

Strip lights

Cluttered floors

Laundry everywhere

Posters on the wall

Held up by knifes

Murder mystery books

She calls them research

Half drunk glads of wine

And a cigarette bud

Knee high converse

Music blasting

Shaking the walls

The track of crying on repeat

Half full notebooks

Pens and pencils all over the desk

Computer open

To a website

Blood stained gloves in a basket

Gun case in the corner

Guitar mounted on the wall

Dirty dishes everywhere

A smile on their face

Closet door ajar

Creeping closer

To close for comfort

Now your vision is as dark as their soul

And you are bleeding out

On the floor

Meniachal laughs echo

Body count: +1