The curtains bulge forward
Waving and flicking like snakes tongues
Dark
A pit with no end beyond the shattered window
Sharp
quivering arrows
from an invisible bow
flash past
come nearer
but never hit
Cold
like sharp teeth biting at your will
The wind
An invisible net
thrusting at the haggard rubble and curtains.
I’ve got George Powers
He’s bad.
So I keep him in the back.
In the dark passages of my brain.
He’s bad.
So it’s black where he lives.
Black and dirty and I don’t like it there.
So I don’t go there.
*
Sometimes George comes out.
To visit.
He’s bad so he doesn’t like the light.
So he doesn’t stay long.
He fantasizes about the dark
out here.
He likes to cut people.
It doesn’t matter how.
He likes to hurt people.
I have the Frankenstein complex.
People fear what they don’t understand.
They also tend to hate
what they genuinely fear
or are not used to.
*
I have been alienated.
Exiled to dark corners.
To isolation, which makes it worse.
*
It now appears
that I attend dark, sinister séances
and am evil.
All because people don’t understand
that I might love a person, might love another.