Wednesday, January 23

there's something outside the front door, rustling the leaves of trees, rattling windows in their frames. i know it's there, i can sense it there, but i won't be afraid, because i'm not scared of it. there's something in the dining room, shuffling chairs against carpet, creaking floorboards underfoot. i know it's there, i can sense it there, but i won't be afraid, because i'm not scared of it. there's something in the kitchen, rustling through the cupboards, clinking the cups and crockery. i know it's there, i can sense it there, but i won't be afraid, because i'm not scared of it. there's something in the hall, brushing against the walls, lingering behind the bookshelf. i know it's there, i can feel it there, but i won't be afraid, because i'm not scared of it. there's something in the corner of my room, casting a darker shadow, making my room cold. i know it's there, i can sense it there, but i won't be afraid, because i'm not scared of it. i won't be afraid, because i'm not scared, i'm not scared, i just can't close my eyes. i'm not scared, i'm not scared, i just can't get to sleep.

1 Comments:

Blogger Indeterminacy said...

That is so universal - it oculd be a child, or an old man/woman.

4:36 pm, February 05, 2008  

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