Red Room Where the Writers Are

I love exploring my darker side--this piece could have the alternate title "Why Steve should never eat pizza late at night and fall asleep after looking at naughty XXX websites."

Just kidding...no, no...not really. (sigh)

Read on, reader!

nyctalopia
 
intrusive, evil hour,
an auger against all;
circadian rhythms
dissipating tenebrous 

vim, defiant, adjacent
to the natural baleful
gnawing nosferatu all
around the periphery 

or seams, like a trick,
waxy glazed oculars
glisten; jowls of teeth
all fouled and mouthful,

capillaries flexing past
ruptured crimson open,
a lucubrating vespertine
phantasm-dancing

all over the synapses
a nanosecond's trickle
on a clock face, each
progression flickering

farther into perversion
"keep the lights dim"
capricious, degaussing
a rainbow of magnetic

persuasion, like clarity
unbridled whispering
the inside with an interloper's
downy, erotic suggestion

subliminal; a true fiend
inhabit these desperate
hours, ethereal, praying
hardship, licking canines...

© 2008 Steve Ekstrom