Those familiar grumbles
come from somewhere
in a dark corner or my mind.
They come sneaking around
without more of a warning
than a soft cackle.
The laughter
grinds my bones
as if I'm searching
for gears in the car.
The creatures
have been hunting me,
taunting me,
haunting me for years.
They come for me at night,
when I'm most alone.
They know
I cannot be saved then,
they'll have their way with me,
chewing on me,
never to swallow me whole
but just enough
to leave me sore
with the rise of the sun.
I've grown to expect them,
embrace their presence,
because unlike those
who are with me
in the daytime,
the demons
will always be here.