The Worms of Midnight

Posted: December 2, 2013 in Poetry



Late at night,

While the world is asleep,

My treacherous mind and body,

Like to play havoc with me…


“You’re a weak, pathetic wretch,

Not worth your tainted, vile breath,

You are always quick to trip and fall,

So quick to starve yourself,

Just as quick to choke on it all!”


If I fall to my knees beneath their screams,

Forgive me my moment’s unsteadiness,

Too many sieges too fast,

Will cripple any amount prepared readiness…


The monsters are loud and many,

And they like to claw and gnaw at my ribs,

Angry, heated little devils in bone cages,

All fighting for alpha rite dibs…


Angry little monsters foolishly believing,

The more they eat they thrive,

But the truth they aren’t seeing,

Parasites are not predators, despite their lies…


When all is dark and still,

Eyes snapped boring through the ceiling,

The worms of midnight dancing underneath the skin,

Tonight, this host isn’t the only one screaming…


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