There is a man.
He walks the shaded streets
of your darkest nightmares.
Often just there
to watch,
to observe,
to feed on the fear you perspire.
It rages through
his oily black veins
like a forest fire.
There is a man,
in a dark brimmed hat.
He walks the places
few dare to tread.
He wears the threadbare
cloak of nightmares,
even the watchman
doesn't know he's there.
He waits patiently.
Soaking up
the drops of sweat
that pour from your head,
the fear that comes
when you lay in bed.
There is a man,
his name is unknown.
His voice unheard
by those that survive.
He hasn't been seen
by anyone alive
but in the darkest night terrors
you may get a hint,
when the clocks speed backwards,
or the air takes on a red tint.
When the floors get sticky
and you can't run, he is around
having some fun,
trying to make your fear overcome.
There is a man.
He chases
the nightmare highs.
His drug, the rug pulled
from under, as the beasts surround you
No one alive
knows he is there.
So how
you may ask
do I?
Thanks for reading
Endless Nightmares out now
300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling
Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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