The dark has a mind of its own,
The periphery does not lie,
There’s something there,
Exerting its will unseen,
It’s like a shadow person,
It has limbs of pure contorted blackness,
It pinches at your ears and thighs,
Supping upon your rapid heart,
Tentacles against table legs and wall skirts,
Those whispers are very real,
It tries to lead you further in to the night,
Tendrils ushering you onwards,
For nefarious ends perhaps,
Or some other mischief.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s