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Camilla Green Nov 2019
Lo! Beware! The Nightman has cometh again.

His long pincered legs used to scuttle towards me,
black nightmares pumped fast through carnivorous veins,
as his exoskeleton: the moon, enslaved.

He spindled his thread, turned my skin gray, my eyes red.
Lethal snares held tight a soul begging for sleep.

And now the Nightman cometh slow.
But why? What hath changed?
He prowls the maze of my bedridden brain:

his thin legs limp one after two after eight,
his once strong silken web has sputtered, stalled out,
his shining armor seems to be in eclipse.

It is a parasitic relationship
and the host is dying out.                                                         .
The phrase "The Nightman Cometh" is taken from the TV show "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"
William A Gibson Jan 2018
clutching my crumbling holy relic,
that trace of her final kiss
still rippling across addicted lips,
rise to find shelter,
move it safe from noise and smoke

stumbling through shadows,
like uneven, forgotten lumber
patching gut shot with used bandages
the faded, drunken hymns of heart flung sadness
hang along Cahuenga Avenue, old and overplayed
wilted spider silk across a concrete violin

each parking meter my next crutch,
arguing with stoic streetlights,
giving their cold flicker that same
blood stained sermon,
self same pity, worn and overused

from edge of a coin I’ll scratch out her name,
from a nightman’s club the darkness can fall,
from the corner of my eye she’ll melt away,
from the skin of my teeth I’ll feel the dawn crack
and learn, again,
to crawl
Ariel Good May 2013
A beautiful, naked man stares at me from across the room.
With excitement emulating from my pores, I smile.
Feeling aroused, I begin to touch myself to his image.
I think of all the incredible feats this man can complete.
He could outbang any man in Philly, nay, in the world,
And his system for doing so is flawless.
No woman can equal his beauty. No man is so purely masculine.
I’ve seen him perform a perfect double jack-knife twist,
Right into the lap, and *******, of Chrissy Orlando.
An impossible execution for most, but not for this Adonis,
Not for this god amongst men.
Because of lovely vocals and protruding muscles,
He, alone, defeated the dreaded Nightman.
I come close, as I picture the large amount of *******
Which throw themselves into his immaculately toned arms.
Oh! – yes! I look past the mirror, into his eyes,
And ******* pure, liquid gold onto the carpet.
I wink to myself through the glass, as Mac calls from the other side of the door.
It’s time to begin yet another day in the majestic body of
Dennis Reynolds.

— The End —