The Interior Anterior

I found the way inwards

and it was unbelievably easy.

First, turn the knob sideways

and randomly walk in.

Upon entering, a sign warns:

Please evade the darkness.

Inside what is essentially an amorphic amphitheater (see link),

smelling faintly of old static,

is the oodling sound of ectoplasm dripping from the ceiling.

There is a diorama of Quigons

working a wheatfield for mere pennies.

Yet this is a facade:

in the blink of a fish, the scene reorganizes itself

into an iridescent peacock closing itself inside a briefcase.

I leave feeling as if taken aboard

a poor carnival ride.