somebody's watching me

around every corner

in the breath-fog of a window

are dull, lucid eyes

not peering,

Watching

at night

when lights are black

i twist a sharp thing in my palm

and press it against

the curve of my spine

but maybe I just want them to

see my vulnerability

and run, Screaming

cupboards left wide

drawers gaping with dust

a silent maw

little things

left smoking, burning

within the death of Night

––

Art is by the one and only, Keith Haring <3