I’m afraid of the moonlight
that cast the bloodied monsters across my walls,
their legs drawn out
like mummified spiders,
crystal liquid DDT in their exoskeletons,
that whispers about the angelic graveyards
with broken nets and wooden fishing rods,
their thin threads tangled and confused
starving souls like star crossed lovers,
and leaves a thick layer of bitter sweetness on my lip,
blistering and bleeding,
healed by the paths of silver salt.
And it comes back to haunt me every night,
unable to penetrate that darkness that runs
And if I tell myself the monster will go away,
its silver rays always come back.