House. I walk these hallowed halls alone, the Walls echo history in a myriad of ways. Being here leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and a rage in my heart that will not quell, the history here is a triptych of centuries and all leave nothing but distasteful memories. When I am away I can feel it's grasp pulling me closer, no matter where I am I always want to be here dwelling on the past. Alone I sleep alone I awake, it still hasn't dawned on me the hold it has but I can't shake it, the bitter taste, the dust with a spectral presence following me through here. I'm not sure where here is I just know it's existence is definite. Mellifluous tones and malevolent faces. I must go but, I am unsafe, I am unsound to be around.
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