the inklings creep
in the  black indigo
depths of this dark
moon ridden night

they ooze over, down,
around the furniture of
this shadowless room

eye cannot see them

but heart knows

they are there watching,
waiting, dripping
blackness on the carpet

there is
no where
to hide
on a night
like this
one may
fight
but most
succumb
thinking
nothing's
amiss

the inklings come
and brood on nights like
this

the inklings come and come
and come.