Back Alleys of the Mind

With steps of muffled lead,

All thick and slow and heavy,

I tread the alley dirt,

And pray that they don’t get me.

 

Those things behind That Door,

Tucked in my mind’s dark alleys,

They scream behind That Door,

Impatient, they will rally.

 

One day That Door will burst,

They’ll pour out in their blood-rage,

And to me they will fly

To kill me in my own cage.

 

They’ll feast upon my mind,

With a voracious hunger,

They’ll tear my thoughts apart,

And rip it all asunder.

 

At least some peace I’ll find

When they have all been sated,

Their hunger thus reduced,

Their rage will be abated.

 

9/18/25