Poem 20151024

in the dark the whispers come
a scratching at the skull
from the inside
tickling the skin
but below the skin
like a tingling nerve
after the lightning strike

no amount of scratching on the scalp
can ease the irritation
and the tingling travels
down the spine and deadens the legs
turns the stomach and the guts
to ice water

the lights flicker
or is it your vision
and the whispers
a mercy
until you hear the doorknob turn
and the creak of the floorboards
as the weight of feet announces
an approaching, unseen visitor