I'M Waiting To Begin

i walk unsteadily, ready to pounce with every ounce of my being onto whatever scares me and through the dark corridor, i suppose it is infested i hear the scattering of cockroaches; the pattering of thousands of tiny feet and in a nest sits a lit-up entity an apparition like a silhouette behind a brick curtain i know only i'm seeing it, i've become aware of this i didn't get used to the dark, i just learned to live with it here, i carry a knife i've had since the womb there's blood on the tip skeletons are screaming my name from the catacombs and i'm waiting for a note to slip beneath the walls or through the stones they're decorated in dragons breathing fire i want the ink to glow in the darkness i want to feel leeches sucking at my skin i want to feel the lovely sting of scorpions i'll draw a window with my weapon the blood leaks down the wall like it is fresh though my blade has not touched flesh in a while i press my tongue against the blood like sealing an envelope i've forgotten that feeling and it feels like someone it feels like something the skeletons seem like my victims their screams have become an annoyance but it gives me a sense of security like a protector would within the walls are holes and i peek inside how have i not seen this? what a normal thing to find in a place so old inside them, i see glowing spheres rocks? crystals? . . . eyes? how have i not seen this? what a strange thing to find in a place so old the creature licks its lips and out of mine slips, "why don't we begin?"