Thursday, March 31, 2011

The Door

What fresh hell is this
That visits at my door
What horrors await
When I open wide
Do I keep it shut
Barred and locked tight
Do I dare see what specter
Awful and bony
And scaly and dark
And ugly and old
And menacing and cruel
Points its finger at, at, at
God knows what
Why risk turning the next page 
Of this awful book
Doubtless there waits
Some black cloaked figure
With a scythe
I cringe at the door
Resist opening
As one resists diving from a great height
I reel, arms akimbo
Waves of terrible hatred
Must be beating at my door
No, no, no, I’ll not let them in
I cannot expose myself to more terror
This is undeserved
I rise above 
The passage will stay closed
What screaming or wretching or reeking
Foulness is there
Surely it cannot be
But yes it is
For it is entered somehow
It is, it seems
Another layer of mind
The stranger within, the enemy within
Come to claim my thoughts forever
Insanity at last!
Take me away

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