Probably a symptom of something
to ascribe internal suffering
to an external horror.

Creeping through my guts
my hair standing on end
the back of my neck prickling.

My God I am crazy
or I am haunted
but by what has no name.

I may be a liar and cold
and that did indeed
**** a barely born love.

It is good that we could not continue
as I was not forthcoming to you
about the state of my soul.

You would have had to endure
my nightmares and my fears
waking in a cold sweat.

I do believe in evil
having seen it firsthand
dined with it in darkened rooms.

And as sad as I am
in the midst of my insanity
there is not hope
but vindication.