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.