The Building

Buildings live you know

They have moods and sounds

Pains and hungers

Usually, they’re happy to sit back

Let us fill them with ours
But when they’re empty

They express themselves

These walls hold secrets
Thousands of them

You can see it in the shadows

The long, empty corridors
Hear it in the creaking doors and hinges

If you find the right place

And have the patience
The building will speak to you

Most people don’t have the time

Me, I’ve got nothing but

I’ve got my secrets too you see
The building knows this
That’s why we share
Bound together

We reveal to each other and no one else

There’s no one else to listen
Most don’t even see me

The old man at the desk
And they don’t see the building

Just its parts
Some, the worst perhaps, do acknowledge me
Dropping the odd cheerful hello

To reassure themselves that they’re not a snob

Most flit by
Up in the lifts to the gods

Then back down to me at the close of business

First the exodus at 5

Then the slow trickle out of the busy and the put upon

the desperate, the stoic, the determined and the lonely
As the human and the electrical hum dies down
That’s when the building rises in confidence

And we begin to fill the void with our sound.

All’s I have is my keys and my radio

And a dirty brass lamp

That illuminates the dust left over from all the bodies
But I like it being close with the building

A while ago
A new man upstairs
Tried to separate us

He was a man with his eye on the bottom line
Roving security patrols on contract are cheaper
It wasn’t right though
He didn’t understand the relationship me and the building had
So we made a plan

We called down the man upstairs
One night
To show him the other side of the building
And now he understands what we have
Because he’s part of it too

Another ghost

In the walls

By Kenn Taylor