Night

After Dark

Oppressive silence
draws the net
of thoughts and words
tighter, tighter
strangling, binding.
Fearsome whispers
of the steady ceiling fan,
God’s breath maybe
stirring papers on the wall,
making strange rustlings
that turn my head sharply,
that indicate a presence
so still, so terrifying.
So I turn on the TV,
sing songs to myself,
speak aloud,
play music,
seek company,
create noise
to drown out
...
God’s voice?
Demons?
My insanity?
Who knows.
I never will
as long as I can run,
hide,
pretend not to notice.


Alone

Left with only
myself,
whom I hate,
and God,
the Stranger I fear,
I sharpen my claws,
ready to tear
at my soul.