Crushed wolfsbane on the bamboo down alternative pillow.
Light is off and through the window
streetlights digress to tell you the secret.
They whisper, There are bad men in the
shadows that disappear at the shine of a light.
Their favorite seat at the table is the
one at the center of your mind.
The coincidence is deafening.
Scorpion telsons adorn the walls and
conspire to point you in every wrong direction.
They say, Close your eyes, spin around five times,
and run as fast as you can.
There are daggers taking shape in your fugue.
Your phone splits your atoms and the man at
the other end speaks to you in reverse,
He says, .su dnif ot gnikool potS.
lliw fo ecrof no deef ew dna su truh tonnac stulleB