The Haunted Hotel Project- Manchester

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There is something wrong in the bones of this place.

The meat of the plaster is retched with flies.

I am fragmented.

There are two versions of me that exist here.

I wake at night when the pity man comes.

He shakes his little tin box filled with teeth.

The nurses say he is harmless, but I see his children.

They boil the air.

Their shapes flicker across the walls, like ghost birds.

In my other me, this place is just a hotel.

Somewhere mundane, safe.

I pray that this a dream.

I pray that this note will be gone in the morning.

-Hidden in the bible.