The Hollow

Ever wonder, who or "what" watches you when you sleep?

The hollow comes crawling up to you in the dead of the night,

 

A night when you are tucked in safe, when you sleep amidst the memories of mommy singing you a lullaby.

 

A night, when you thank God for the warm duvet you have to snuggle.

 

A night when comfort is the soft yellow light, shining outside.

 

A night when the sturdy lock on your main door, lulls you into thinking you are safe.

 

The hollow lies in wait,

 

Sometimes in your closet,

 

Sometimes on the branch of a tree outside your window,

 

Sometimes in dark corners of the passage,

 

Sometimes peeking through the keyhole of your main door.

 

The hollow lies in wait,

 

Eagerly clacking its razor sharp nails, clack, clack, clack on the wooden panes.

 

The hollow lies in wait,

 

Saliva dripping from its teeth, sharpened to a point.

 

The hollow lies in wait,

 

Grinning in anticipation of the bloody gashes it will make.

 

Sweet dreams evade your sleep,

 

Lulling you into mindless slumber as a smile lines your lips,

 

Happy fantasies pull you in deep.

 

The hollow watches you,

 

Watches you float into the abysmal world of dreamy glee.

 

The hollow counts its minutes,

 

Minutes to when it will devour you.

 

The hollow counts its seconds,

 

Seconds left to sink its teeth into you.

 

The hollow cackles, wipes dripping saliva off its chin,

 

The hollow plans, plans to start with your shin.

 

The hollow wants, wants your body, mind and soul.

 

The hollow craves, craves the snaking, squishy dish inside your brains.

 

The hollow desires, desires those two mounds that men call breasts,

 

The hollow imagines, chomping on each in one single bite, and nothing is left.

 

The hollow yearns, yearns to dig its razor sharp nails, in that soft belly,

 

The hollow feels, feels your insides when it pulls out all your intestines.

 

The hollow pines, pines to crunch your marrow and suck its juices.

 

The hollow smacks, smacks its thin, black, slithering lips at the succulent taste.

 

Time has come, for the hollow’s great feast.

 

Time has come, for the hollow to devour what is rightfully its.

 

Time has come, for the hollow to claim your soul.

 

Time has come, for your heart to stop its rhythmic beat.

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

I would like to know, what worked for you, what did not.