Shadow play

Another sleepless night,
another idle hour spent
staring up at the forms
crawling through the
drywall.Shadows creeping up,
memory hazed over from
the cough syrup –
the nightcaps never
work anymore.

Enough to hitch a scream
in your throat,
when the moon’s glaring daggers
at you from beyond heavens gates.
I can hear them now –
prying their cold little talons under
my windowsill,
howling in echoes,
tearing through the curtains,
memories, heartache, solemness,
so much grief.

I don’t make eye contact.
You never make eye contact.

You just close your eyes
and hope
they decide to spit you back out
once they’re finished gnawing at you.

For some reason,
my time never comes.
I’m perpetually stuck
in this personal hell,

This dark,
in the center
of my head.

B. , this may very well be the death of me’

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