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Poem

Once the dark of dilated pupils eclipsed my saffron sanguine irises,
Sucking the luminescent astral soma as does a tonsil to a virus.

A face of a phantom doth float in the folds of the frigid night,
Scowling and lurking in the corner of my closing three eyes' sight. 

And sinister whispers resounding insidiously around my head,
Tip-toe towards me as my ears try deciphering what they've said. 

Echoes of endless elocutions entrance me in a tunneled lack of focus,
As I become trapped in perceptual pervasion by moaning songs of locust. 

In the cricketing commotion he creeps in sockets of my cornea's crevices,
Waiting for the pupil lunar eclipse so to invade upon their growing premises.

As the dilated dark of absorbing light slithers into the depths,
Of my mind the shadows dance in penumbral peeping steps.

Icicles of stalactite sweat melt in frozen knives upon my skin,
As the ghost in my peripheral pretends humor with a sour grin.

"I know you're there," I beg out loud to the filling empty space,
Of my basement bedroom dwelling where no windows have been placed.

Horror encases me in cryogenic incarceration, for it was not me who had just spoke,
But something using my mouth to tell me that inside me he had just awoke.

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