In the dark in the room
Whistles faintly echo
Up to my room
"Who's in this house?"
And the dread settles in
A bag full of lead
I can't move
And for some reason
I think the whistling can see me in here
Skritch-scratch under the door
Total paralysis still -
Maybe, I shall pretend to snore?
Two red jewel eyes
Materialize
At the foot of this bed
This
Is absurd!
I can't even mouth a word!
Climbing ontop of me
The mare opens his jaws
To a dead TV channel
That sounds like bee-wings
Just about suffocated by fright
Then it all ends
Hard heavy anvil feelings
And all I keep with me is the dread
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC
In the dark in the room
Whistles faintly echo
Up to my room
"Who's in this house?"
And the dread settles in
A bag full of lead
I can't move
And for some reason
I think the whistling can see me in here
Skritch-scratch under the door
Total paralysis still -
Maybe, I shall pretend to snore?
Two red jewel eyes
Materialize
At the foot of this bed
This
Is absurd!
I can't even mouth a word!
Climbing ontop of me
The mare opens his jaws
To a dead TV channel
That sounds like bee-wings
Just about suffocated by fright
Then it all ends
Hard heavy anvil feelings
And all I keep with me is the dread
I had such a hard time sleeping as a kid for fear of re-living this re-interpretation of Kentucky folklore. Sleeping brain+creepy southern folk tales=nightmare city. Alternate title, "The Dread".
