04-07-2018, 11:49 PM
Haunted
They are always there.
Slithering, at the bottom
of a glass; hanging
beneath the shoulder
of a long-necked bottle;
waiting for my piss-poor
defences to weaken
so they can slip in,
like wet metal
cephalopods, a writhing
of memory and otherness
and an open mouth screaming
up into a cutting white light.
They are always there.
Watching.
They are always there.
Slithering, at the bottom
of a glass; hanging
beneath the shoulder
of a long-necked bottle;
waiting for my piss-poor
defences to weaken
so they can slip in,
like wet metal
cephalopods, a writhing
of memory and otherness
and an open mouth screaming
up into a cutting white light.
They are always there.
Watching.