13 rooms
Absolutely unlucky for some
For this particular procedure I do think that you just might need to grow something of a mesmerising imagination
Not forgetting, never forgetting, a serious backbone
What’s sensational pitted alongside an equal degree of tragedy
For the killer – the first, poor and defenseless killee – the latter
Spatterings of unmitigated disaster
One removed torso cellotaped to one such wall
Another eyeball floating inside a glass of whiskey, ice bath
It so much as blinks I sprint six ways to Sunday
Too many rooms to count
A disgusting amount of horror to be seen
The prostitute with pliars where her once gold teeth used be
A little girl with knives in place of her ears
Seems she must’ve pressed her cheek too close to the door
A policeman with just enough petrol inside his belly for me to strike a match, explode the whole damn thing
All over again
Funnily enough, room number 13 was actually quite inviting, nothing but a cup of English tea
A scone and some raspberry jam
Delicious clotted cream
Too late by the time I get to look on up, man with a machete awaiting the enticement of it being entirely enveloped by my head
I’m dead
Sure thing, I speak from the grave

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