From the crease of the forehead
and the furrowing of the brows,
he tried to concentrate in his bed,
failing to dream about--
The door slightly creaked,
a sliver of light peaked,
he shivered in his sleep
while the dark figure came and creeped.
He shut his lids tight
to protect his eyes from vivid life,
simply hoping for his lucid wishes
to stay inside and kept a secret.
He tossed and turned
while his temperature rose and burned.
With his back against the door,
his stomach churned.
Slowly, a shadowy presence appeared.
This is not what he wanted.
This is what he feared.
It grabbed hold of his shoulders--
His heart ****** before his eye shutters opened.
His retina scanned the wall opposite the door,
his rods and cones were adjusting to the horror,
the iris was in a fright
and his body was so frigid and uptight.
The apparition shouted in a raspy whisper,
"Aye, it's me from yonder!
Down you will go--down under!
I'll drag you down with your despair--
and your dread
to my sinful lair.
You will be gone
and like every other trickster
be remembered as simply a clever jester."
The figure revealed that he was The Grim Reaper
stalking bodies in the night-time
and harvesting their souls.
The boy's body lay there, cold.
Now, it was prime.
The time was ripe.
The reaper unsheathed his scythe.
The fiend lifted it above his head, but paused.
No, this isn't just.
Gently, he laid his weapon, full of blood and rust.
In a sudden gesture,
Mr. Reaper rolled up his sleeve
and ripped into the boy's back.
Mr. Reaper slid through the muscle and tissue.
He bypassed the cage of bones and its marrow.
There was some sticky goo--
but nevermind that, his heart was close.
The dark ghoul latched onto the throbbing aorta
and ripped it out.
Although no blood gushed--
the veins were still pumped--
and there still remained a thump thump--
something had been stolen.
The boy's cheeks were flushed,
but finally, the threat had ceased and stopped.
He did not bother to ******--
instead, finally, drift off into a land of lust.
His beating ***** slowed to a soft murmur
and his vessels remained intact.
If Mr. Reaper were still there,
all he'd hear is the air.
The boy went in dozing--
a sweet melody playing in his ear.
It seems that the devil lay him to rest--
he had Mr. Reaper to thank later.
he was elated, floating on the clouds to nowhere.
He desisted from ever waking up.
Why would he?
How dare he?
What an offense to Mr. Reaper--
after all the struggles to finally be lulled asleep,
how dare he even think of waking?
he couldn't move.