As you walk through
the twisting corridors,
gothic architecture
sprawls around.
She appears, animalistic
in the atmospheric arches,
snarled groans sounds
like an animal bark.
Almost crawling, all fours
pawing the ground, she appears...
A figure in deep black gown.
None more
scary
than that
creepy nun.
If you see her
your mind
will run,
even before your body
has had a chance to process
the fear that is making it turn.
Is it her you see
when your mind
finally corrodes?
When thoughts die
and no more
word rivers will flow?
When thoughts explode
into toxic sludge,
is her face that you see,
that will not budge?
In black habit, she prowls.
Her whispers are more
like menacing growls.
Does she inhabit the space
In the brain habitat.
A place that
thoughts start to take shape
Does her habit
of sneaking in
scare every bone within,
until all your limbs are screaming
a choir of pain
they sing their stinging
hymns of damnation.
Thanks for reading.
taken from the #escapril prompt
"Bad habit"
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
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