There's a Cave in My Attic

There's a cave in my attic
I go up there every week or so
I've learned any electronics are useless
Oil lanterns
Maybe a burning newspaper if I'm low on oil

The attic's at the top, but the cave goes straight down
I don't really know how that works
It's not my job to know
Apparently

I've only gotten so far
Maybe three hundred feet at most
There's nothing in there so far, but every step I take
Fills me with more dread, more anxiety, more anticipation of something
Something just ahead
Or something just behind me, just above
Somehow underneath
In the walls
I just can't seem to walk any farther

There's one line of rocks
One gate of pebbles formed by my stopping every time in the same spot

Rationally and clearly, I think to myself
"What's different from any of the steps you took before versus that one?
It's just one more
Maybe a couple more after that"
But there's something unspoken
Some yelling, some slicing, pinching
That pulls me back out every time

I locked the attic weeks ago
My wife and daughter stopped yelling up to me