They Are Coming

they are coming.

they’re out for blood.

my blood.

as if enough of that hasn’t been spilled already.

they are coming.

i can hear them

in the hall;

in my head.

but they’re always in my head.

they are coming.

i can see their figures through my window,

hear their low laughs,

smell the stench of their rotting flesh,

taste the fear in my mouth,

feel my heart beating faster.

they are coming.

i curl up on my bed,

despite the urge to run

because it’s all in my head

and i just want it to be done.

they are here.