STALKER

STALKER

 

At home in the black

A child of the dark,

Nocturnal by birth

Moving freely in the shadows,

Completely at peace in the darkness

Breathing deep in the blackness.

Bold and beautiful

Skilled in elegance.

 

Born to kill

Not bothered by money

Spending days swimming,

Lounging waterside,

Nights stalking

Hunting

Wanting,

With a mind

Beyond the reaches of hate and murder.

Homicide, slaughter?

Constructs that he would laugh at,

Like the daily curses placed on him

If he ever did laugh.

 

Friends with the stuff of nightmares,

Acquainted with

All the monsters that go bump in the night,

As they creak and croak, slither and slime

Causing panic and screaming

He acknowledges them

And he goes about his darkly business

Avoiding their noises,

For the loneliness.

Choosing instead the silences,

The in between spaces,

The quietness

That he wears like a second skin,

As he stalks.

Looking breathing.

By the time you see him,

It’s already too late, he’s too close,

He’s got you

The claws and jaws, butter through flesh,

Screams get lost in the jungles nothingness.

 

 

 

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