My voice echoes silently,
bouncing off the walls of my brain,
pounding in my ears
I close my eyes and see the skeleton I will someday be,
a pile of bones covered with dust
The boogeyman calls my name
I walk my road alone
lonely in a crowd
lonely on a bed
legs spread
spirit dead
My ears discern the wicked whisper
calling to me day and night
the boogeyman
Rain washes down my face
in savage torrents, to wash me away
I grasp for the past,
always elusive,
disintegrating as dust in my hands
sugar on my tongue
Would you be like sugar on my tongue?
Roaming through my life’s attic
Is there nothing tangible accomplished?
The boogeyman draws closer
to pinch at me with twisted fingers
and I run
Oh, let me run to a place
where I can escape these ever-circling vultures
I will make the wolves my own
But a whimper frightens me
falling flat with a gasp
I grasp
for the glass
The boogeyman cackles
I turn humbly to face my master
and find myself staring at my own image