Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash
Familiar faces,
black ball eyes
no escape.
Clothes, a uniform
sewn to my skin.
Arch enemy up top,
walking without movement.
Shapes becoming sounds,
manic sweat sensations
need help.
//
An entity unknown,
its presence is felt.
Large and small,
everything at once.
Up top she turns,
her mouth erupts
arcadian light.
I flinch and soil,
silent laughter
they know what they're after
need help.
//
One by one,
they all stand and begin.
I know where I am,
too little too late.
I choke on my scream,
and my sweat becomes green.
Close my eyes,
until I wake.
About the Creator
Dean F. Hardy
Writer from Dublin, Ireland.
*All work here is owned by Dean F. Hardy*
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