Too late for light

Screen blurs.

This pounding headache reawakens my consciousness;

every time

my eyes begin to grow unexcited.

Unattached,

my mind chatters away

my fingers do their own thing. They scamper

around this scrabbled alphabet.

Nonsense spills

across this screen,

line

by line.

A dark,

heavy

silence

amalgamates over me as I type…

Silence…

There it is again…

Can’t you hear this

silence?…

Amplification of every creak and each murmur

from the wind

outside

these thick walls. Shadowed bars glide across

wallpaper as the odd car drives past,

searching for me like a spotlight. Parted

blinds,

locked

sound-proof and an empty street…

No-one…

No-one,

but me and my little safety light

coming from the screen.

Why does it seem darker

in here

than out there?

Have pools of light, reflected off the ghostly pearl, been

banished

from my quarters?

I hesitate

to return my eyes back to the screen, to see

what awaits me,

what lurks in every silhouette around me.

Sinister shapes morph into cloaked figures.

They watch over me

as fill the page with blended letters

These menacing observers lose life to

dead objects at every glance.

I scan the four walls,

the closet left

ajar...

I stare deeply into the unseen hell.

Shadows writhing around

forcing light away…

forever around me.

Spine warped, hutched over the

keyboard. Optical spheres, now dry

and uninterested in

what’s really happening,

decide to make the quilt inflate;

adding another occupant to my bed/desk

Please

tell me where these shadows go in complete darkness.

Please.