Will Morning Never Come

Night hovers around me, touching with fingers of dread. My empty heart is subjugated to the pain smothering me. Eyes, I keep shut tight so that demons cannot be seen. For if I see them they shall render me insane for all eternity. Knowing they climb slowly down the wall toward my bed, I stifle my screams and put my pillow over my frantic face. Long tendrils of madness poke and enter while I breathe. In shuddering contemplations, I pray to soon be in some better place. Now the voices whisper of my vile iniquities and black sin. They try to wind through me and force my ears to hear. With shaking fingers I fumble with the lid on a bottle of pills, spilling them, watching them roll away as I battle the fear. Will morning never come and release me from this prison? Am I doomed to lie here until their ravenous appetite feeds on my flesh, as they drink my blood in copper urns. Unholy manifestations claw my mind, force me into fright. Blessed dawn is creeping nearer, licking the blinds with tiny tongues that edge their way into careless cracks and slits. On tender feet I tiptoe to the window and let in blessed light to vanquish my devils, to give comfort to my fevered fits. I wasn't invited, but would like to enter.