My spirit guide's a bit wide of the mark, just seen him sitting, having a beer in the park, that side lets me down yet again, my only salvation is to pick up a pen.

Evening all.

It is done
the light fades
the deadly night
comes into its own,

what lurks in your head are the things that you think hide under the bed, don't look, read a book, maybe Enid Blyton, leave the lights on, say your prayers,

some times are later than others
that's what bothers me, not
Christ on the cross, not even
the Holy Trinity,
which I do not understand,
probably
because understanding
isn't in me,

what I do know is,
if you close your eyes
the monsters don't go away,
they wait
patiently
monstrously
until sunrise.