Fear

As somber as the moon
When the light of the harvest has waned
The cold creeps upon my bed
As the shivers I feel
Cast dreaded doubt, deep within my bones
The crisp of my sheets grow wintry
As the dew sits upon the sill
My shadow ever narrower
Against the crack of the paint that peels
The tick of the clock once silent
Unheard, for merry noise filled this place
Now is engulfed with an ominous voice
As the hour chimes a hideous strike
Plank floorboards creak without footsteps
Calling my name on approach
No warmth I find beneath linens and wool
As my head bends and curls in the dark
Where my body does lie
This is not an insipid moment
But the blow of something near
Treacherous to the living, something that I fear
It ask not of my opinion, though I grown privy to its lust
As it seeks to pull me to it, through the dark I cannot trust
And it would lend itself to the cessation, to my heart I now can hear
To the silence of my reason, to the blackness of the gloom
That grows inside of everything, deep within my room