once my mother told me
she saw demons outside our window.
i knew she was drunk and in a daze,
the alcohol corroding her blood,
clouding over her pupils.
but now, sober, i can see them too.
they lurk on our balcony,
hunching over our furniture,
black blood oozing on the wooden floor.
i want to shut my deluded eyes
and pretend they were never there
but i can still see their silhouettes
behind my maroon eyelids.