He is
the proximity of the moon
a dull glow in the night
which tells you you’re not alone
As you drift into sleep
the demons creep out from underneath your bed
and tug at your hair
pull at your toes
and breathe in your ear
as the nightmares take wing
on the fire-scorched pinions
of the devil himself, perhaps
Your eyes snap open
tears having dampened your face
small sobs escape your meak body
as his arms pull you close
in comfort,
in warmth,
But when you lift your gaze
his eyes are black, consuming cavities
two eyes grow into four
as your vision blurs,
his grip of comfort
becomes one of capture
A scream
A shriek
He is the monster
He is the nightmare
When your body shoots upright,
visions finally fade
You are alone in your cold bed
alone in this cold world.