Found poetry created with passages from House Of Leaves by Mark Z Danielewski
Riddles: they either delight or torment
The questions of the process become irrelevant
And
Dark languages rarely survive.
Peculiar properties in
The old home.
Door to a hallway
Wasn’t there before.
The hallway
It stretches,
Twisting,
Like a labyrinth
Exploration
Lost
In
A wash of white noise
Time Passes
Quite unexpectedly
Sense of self derealized
The thread has snapped
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