Scratching about in her cloak of maggots
Fingernails caked in red paint
She wanted what she always wants
And I am in the dark as to what that is
Made it through the front somehow
Then started working on the lock
I installed to keep her out
Paralysed I watched her pall
Seep under my bedroom door
Her rotten onion breath smelled of spells
Taking away my voice
So I was unable to scream for help
None would have come of course
She is the black siren of my soul
Where doubts and fears dwell
Such nightmares are a prefiguring
Of a real and living hell.
© shaun patrick green 2011
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