Photograph by Cop Richard of Freeimages.com
I keep you all underneath my bed.
Pain, Horror, and Fear loving cold floors instead
of fluffy soft pillows and coverlets.
I hear you stir when I grab my pen.
Pain peers at my pages – so intense
with red eyes unblinking and wide open.
With dramatic flair, Horror leaps onto my bed.
His clothes torn, and hair standing on ends.
He snickers; biting bloody and mangled hands.
Fear is usually the last to show.
She drags a dirty rag doll in tow –
sucking her thumb and rocking to and fro.
They take turns reading aloud my work –
Grunting, clapping, and acting absurd.
“Write more,” they demand; when reaching the final word.
I shake my head, “It’s late, my friends.“
they finally disappear under my bed.
It’s quiet again.