Waiting for the Maytag Man - with "Adagio"

Like a phantom haunting the edges of its prey,
wandering the hall with a fractured ectoplasm,
creaking floors betray, heralding its presence
with its audacity on the souls of the meek,
like an echo screaming dripping down a drain,
with its claws digging into the flesh
leaving behind a trail of scars, and bleeding within,
listening to hypochondriacs screaming hysteria,
waiting for the Maytag man.
 
Like a virtuoso of cover, mastering deception,
hiding its corruption beneath a facade,
wandering freely, with a guise of innocence,
with its narcissistic Jack-in-the-Box ego
playing patty cake with its death certificate
and leaving behind its victims weak and mute,
trapped in the wreckage of its wake,
beneath the crawlspace fucking a mannequin,
thanking it a bloated corpse with rigor mortis.