Watchers
It's there.
In the shadows lingering
Feeding on frenzied short
Breaths of anticipation
I sneak peeks over my shoulder
I hear the rustling, rattling wheeze
And the slow scraping of nonhuman toenails
On the carpeted steps to
Hell is of my own creation
They wait, watching
Leering around crevices and
Staring me down in public places.
My breath quickens as I climb into the safety of my
Imaginary house of swords
My bed a vessel to nightmarish visions
And lurking laughter.
Edgar Allen has no claim on the vague shadows
Seeping in through the open window blinds and
Crawling over the bland, beige carpets of this rental
They follow.
They always follow.
They always find me.
Chained to my soul
Tethered to my mind
Trapped, burned indelibly on my eyes.
Strangled cries as I try to meditate, calming, resting
Then I see it.
In the corner.
Can't you see it?
It's crooked twiggy finger beckoning?
Sharp stumps of what must be teeth shine
In an incandescent smile as I hide
Pulling the covers over my head, praying.
Go away. I don't know what you seek
I fear the feeling of tearing flesh,
The sound of crunching bones
The nibbling of my soul.
And the bird.
The bird hovers, talons loosing and gripping
Oversized wings bathe me in shadow.
A protector?
Or is it showing the, where I lie, shivering, waiting for dawn?
Oh Edgar, I fear for my life, my sanity, my soul.
Nevermore.
to the beautiful girl i fell in love with
on the staircase of a dormitory
in August, almost six years ago exactly,
who laughed when I joked
and kissed me at my door
and walked with me in the snow
who made me mac and cheese
and was patient when I was not
who used all my pronouns no matter what they were
and introduced me to her parents:
they say you only ever get one great love in life
and I hope that's not true
but if it is,
I'm glad mine was you.
