It Comes..

I wrote this in a sort of personification about my anxiety

It Comes...


Approaching the senior of late eve, yet here I lie; awaiting his return. Not even the moon and stars to speak a word in witness; sunken behind billow's of ignorance. Be it but a routine visit, my sould could never harbor in peace at his presence. For all who could dare speak his name, his face lies unknown; yet so eatched into the ember's of my mind.

Never proper was the introduction to such a nom de plume; of an era to end them all. Of many years past we had our meeting so unfortunate; of a passing I could never beg enough to leave. From that day on, his visits have become part of my unfortunate endurance; not a day to come where he will move on.

Begging over the edge of every prayer for my retrival of such a cycle; not sure how to be without him once more; of the soul once lost in a time so far. He whispers such sweet terrors in my mind I could never run to hide; of a world so open and bare.

As the sun falls into its craddle of slumber, I grow to expect his return under the luner rays of the eve. Tonight, the aura surrounding his return weighs heavy on my fleeting heart beat.

With each hour that passes I can't deny the tinges of insanity creeping upon my body; why, of this world, must it be so; never a chagning tide in his manner to be.

At long last, I feel his approach; so curt and loathsome; feeling we share the same in hate but of far vast manners in difference. For where my truth lies in fear, his builds in control over my destruction.

Come to me now, from across a vast space; I know no other option in this cause. I am so dibilitated as his figure approaches me; not a word too late. Such sweet shadows; they always followed me.

Speaking not a word, may he climb beside me in this bed side of perjury and trepidation; both a bed of our own; shared each night in our own ways to his desire. I speak not another word; as if my own will could remove a scream from these cold lips. I'll always fall weak at his face so unknown but familiar.

He never says much, but always lingers on his stay; so forbidden in my mind but never minded by the dark of his way. For each and every eve, he takes more and more of me with him; ripping to shreds the very sanity I cling to.

All too soon, I know what he needs; what he always awaits for; just another part of the being I am losing grip on.

I'll turn to face him in the approval in all of which but my own; the only cue he could ever need. Not one to beg; but of a manner of domination, I know it's too late now.

Swiftly he takes his position to where my fretful soul now lies; awaiting to forget it all by the means never possible in my world. In some misquote way I know he feels he is helping me; becoming all that he needs; one in the same being. With not another word, I feel him fall into me; kissing his vile ways through my soul; weaving deep webs of lies and qulam throughout my mind. Just when there lies but a drop of light left to my soul; on the eve of my final weakness, I feel accept that he has won.

With my night closing to an end, his depraved hands sweep their dark ways around my last breath; clutching not a scream of truth to behold; taking hold to his kiss of death, the fear envelopes my mind in a whole; one last as I fade to his rise...