The eyes that follow.
Down the hall I deeply swallow.
Is something trying to hurt me?
What are they trying to tell me?
The eyes that follow just beyond my bedroom door.
Do I dare to follow in horror?
I feel dizzy.
Quick has something stricken me?
The phantom questions that are neither seen nor heard.
I dare to question every spoken word.
Am I among the living?
What am I seeing?
Apparitions appear to me.
They are sending a message apparently.
They infiltrated my mind, body, and soul.
I used to take refuge in my home.
Now everything seems different.
Tell me who or what sent this.
My body has been taken over.
All I hear or see my system can not recover.
The eyes that follow have not released me.
Now my feet have hit the ground fleetingly.
As I try to flee.
The eyes that follow so evenly.
I have finally made it out.
The eyes that follow will they ever find out?

Just so you don't misconstrue
I still care deeply about you
It's just self preservation that makes me push away
Still, we can be cordial, I'll be there on that day

The day when you decide to put the demons at bay.
You can keep ******* around til then.
However, be warned, if you don't try then they'll always win.
I hope to see you again, the real you, someday.

lend me other rooms
leave my mind extending
willingly i take
but consciously i'm fading

someday in the night
the moon will a little bit more radiant
stars will appear many more
and you will forget that you are alone

"When you're lonely,
what do you do?"

"I take pictures
of my favorite places."

"But why do you
keep taking
pictures of the same spots?"

"Because sometimes,
I wish
you'd appear
in one of them."

An open letter to chicks  like thee,
You wait until you're nearly sixty-three,
You'll end up talking like me,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society,
Fine-thinking women, very snippy,
Got no time for nasties and rudies,
"What's this?" "What's for tea?"
"A plate of good manners from me!!"
(And the Dead Grandmas Society!)
A fact of life, real scary,
When you're nearly sixty-three,
Words appear from the clouds, prithee,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society.......

Where are you
Amidst the trees?
Hiding?
No, not you
You noble valiant thing

I thought you were a king
Not a refugee
Leaping from page to page
From thought to age
Evading the tinkerer's jail
Of memory
Paid ransom by some other script

Take a rest
You've been running for infinity
But you've finally run right into the wrong time:
Yours
Pass into potential's clearing
long enough
For my swift stab
Aha!
"Penned" to paper

Shall we begin
The inked interrogation
To see what lies within, o suspect
Accused of rhyme?