Booth

A crack on the wall, a creak in the floor,
A croak from a frog and a crease in my pants.
How crazy it this, this credo of mine,
That creeps in the dark and accrues in advance.

A cracker is dipped in the cranberry wine,
A crucible stands with a cross and a lance.
O cry did the Marys, both cradle and whore!
The crucified zombie is Christ at first glance.

A cryptic facade, a critical hit,
A credible lie and a creature that meows.
The criticized autist of criminal mind
Is crawling back into his crevice to browse.