You don’t know fear until you’ve walked to the bathroom late at night
the floorboards creek as you
step
step
step
every open door becomes an abyss
leading to the depths of hell
you refuse to make eye contact with any mirror
for you fear that you’ll see something you don’t want to
and you keep your eyes on the prize
but
the path seems to grow longer
the bathroom seems to become farther away
so you start picking up speed
because you feel breath on the back of your neck
and it tingles
you have no idea what it could be so you go into a regular jog
the bathroom still seems to be a mile away
and all of a sudden you start hearing things
voices? noises?
you’re sure it’s just your mind playing tricks on you
but they begin to get closer
and soon they show up on your list of
‘things I should be running from’
right below ‘drugs’ and ‘ex girlfriends’
but that’s a different poem,
anyways,
you’re running now
the finish line is in sight
you burst through the door, quietly
and feel a since of pride
‘I did it!’ you say to yourself
‘I did it! I did it!’
then you do what you originally came to do in the first place
I don’t feel it’s necessary to elaborate on that
then you say your prayers quietly in the bathroom
and begin your journey back
-Slang