The keyhole’s looking pretty jagged,
Reminds me of the witch’s noose.
Pyrite door knobs seem pirated,
With the grimly goose girl on the loose.

The skeletons in my closet need dusting,
Room service is unavailable at the current time.
My bed duvet’s weep out for cleaning,
The maids turn a blind eye to the crime.

Eyes dilate upon the shady,
Wine’s diluted until the third hour.
His toxins makes my mind go so hazy,
Yet my obsession reigns higher power.

The old crones...