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,
With a mind
Beyond the reaches of hate and murder.
Constructs that he would laugh at,
Like the daily curses placed on him
If he ever did laugh.
Friends with the stuff of nightmares,
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,
That he wears like a second skin,
As he stalks.
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.