sometimes the muffled sound you
hear through a closed window at night defies comprehension
incites
your courage to turn an leave
quickens stuffs your breath
your brave hasty fingers
suddenly
arrested
they linger at the sash lock
linger
hooked in the handle at the bottom of
the casement
the muntins groan uneasily at your
tension
with the slightest turn you can
unlock the window
the slightest
lift will open it
an then you can see
there will be nothing between you
and it
whatever it is
that
is out there
mewling
morose
whatever it is it
isnt
part of the world you inhabited
before the sun went down
transmogrified
an your only hope when it enters the
house
because it
will
is to unsee it see through it
utterly
unreactive unresponsive unimpressed
Wau Wauuh
Wauwhamp
slithers
the square tiles on the floor behind
it are smeared stained with earth tracked
with soot spore black ruined leaves spurned moss slivered with greyspeckled decay an a smell that thickens an adheres to the
back of your throat
precipitates
your choking retching
bile an
snotgreen phlegm
slithers past
your unseeing
youve done well
an slaughters the rest of the
household
untipped
by the horrid sound breath outside
the softened glaring glass
0055, Thursday,
14 1. 16
1346, Thursday,
14 1. 16
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