I make a visit to a dead man’s house

I make a visit to a dead man’s house:
Every crack in its facade –
Each blemish imprints on mine own;
Dust gathers on lace curtains,
Behind which are the secrets I will never know;
Beneath my eyelids,
Black paint collects on a dripping canvas
And my eyes become swimming pools;
Like a snake, as I leave,
I shed my skin.

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