I lie awake in the bed
Awaiting a dormant state, a state so elusive so far,
In the cold black room I lay
As expectant eyes burn and water at the witching hour.
I feel something in the gut.
I try to remember people, happy faces, in hopes to sedate.
But something is horribly wrong,
For eerie moonlight does enter the window, but does not illuminate.
The scathing silence gives way
To the horrid sounds of unearthed graves.
The hollow feeling gives way
For doors to open of where death is only a slave.
I am not alone in the room now,
For I feel a presence so vile,
Personification of decay with a blackening aura
Itself smiled a black toothed smile.
I clench with sweaty fingers, my sheets,
My mind conflicted between terror and utter denial.
Every day, I only watch helplessly
As my own mind devours its sanity.
