Hey, neighbor! Welcome to your HOA!
By moving into Morbid Tower West,
and being human (which we’ve verified),
you’ve been approved for membership. Unless
you move/transform/get eaten/somehow fail
to maintain proper quantities of teeth,
you’ve joined your local Horror Opposition
Association, permanently. Yay!

Our membership’s selective. We’re a small
but forceful group, opposed to all the horrors
that creep and slide and hurgle through this place.
You may have glimpsed them, or already faced
the Elevator Maw. (Don’t feed it!) Keep
alert. Deep breaths. Some horrors, sometimes, sleep.
Can’t guarantee real normalcy, not here,
but things aren’t quite as grim as they appear.

All members are beholden to our pledge:
We shall not talk to horrors, nor befriend
the horrors, touch the horrors, eat or crave
or love the horrors! This you’ll memorize
and, by your second day, internalize.
Some newbies think they’re special, think they’re safe
because the HVAC tentacles might wave
in winsome ways. Don’t fall for that. They crave
your flesh. They’re saving you for later. Tape
your vents shut. Yes, we know it’s hot. You’ll live.
You won’t if you wave back, or if you give
the horrors any shred of your attention.
Fence in your balcony: some horrors fly
or float. A note on kitchens: leave the fridge
alone. Unplug it, stat—you never know.
Your bathtub should behave, just trim its claws.
The sinks will need convincing. Hit the taps
with baseball bats to stun them. Once the ooze
has cleared, it’s safe to stop. The water’s shy
and slithers, but we think it’s potable.
Décor must not be visible from windows.
All music must be loud, with extra bass.
For noncompliance, there are minor fees.
We’re serious about our members’ lives.

Our policy of zero tolerance
toward horrors means we’ve only ever lost
twelve people. Two just vanished. Four succumbed
to madness—blinking first, and then hellos
to anything that moved—the lobby-shape,
the knobbled fiends, the Maw. Ignore them all.
The horrors aren’t your friends. Do not pretend
we live in normal times. The madness-struck
end up turned inside-out. The other six
we lost? All transformations. Those start slow:
new teeth, or probing clawlike legs that grow
from ribs. Just yank those out. But if you find
dark feathers sprouting bloody up your spine,
alert us. We’ve developed some techniques.
Prompt interference has been known to halt
a brand-new horror. But we’ll know you lapsed—
your fault for falling prey to horrors’ traps,
rhapsodic apparitions in the gaps
between the filthy windows. Absolute
steel vigilance is key. Just chant the pledge,
and seal your sills with salt. Live humanly!

Our HOA meets every double dawn.
Since weekdays here dissolve to nothingness,
and clock hands cease to function (thank you, horrors!),
just come to the sub-basement at sunsrise.
Avoid the Maw! Don’t risk the stairs. We’ll share
more Morbid Tower tips, then patch some rips
in walls and if there’s time, reality.
Try not to be our next fatality!