a hand crawls up

A hand crawls up, digs itself out. Oozes out from the crevices of my wooden floor. Reminds me of all the things I ought not to do - and yet, I do. It compels me. I had a duty to fulfil but I failed. Strayed my path, not like a dog but like a wandering woman. And I know it’s my fault, but I returned to that magenta touch, over and over again. Hell oozed out from my wooden floor & I said yes, I let it erupt, mount Vesuvius, it can only stay unmoving for so long. I let the hand take control. It threw me around and choked me and… I cannot say I didn’t invite it up without being branded a liar.