Brian's Concerto

The long narrow streets wind through the night

Around every corner there is a fresh fright

Dancing shadows following me from behind

As waltzing fears make their way through my mind

On a metal fence a crow caws out my name

I dash away before my soul it can claim

I listen to the sounds of quiet screaming in my ears

I run for my home where loneliness always leers

I lock the doors and windows before I hop in bed

I cover myself over with quilt and dread

I hear the drops of cold crimson liquid hitting the floor

As I jump on a nightmare to ride away once more

Brian lives in the attic of my house

He is usually quiet like a church’s mouse

At night I can hear the pitter-patter of his feet

As he goes into the night to find himself a treat

He likes to pull tricks on the unsuspecting

As he goes merrily along his trip of collecting

When I hear Brian return from his nightly jaunt

I can hear down the hall as he whispers his taunt

I hide in my bed peeking out from under my quilt

The door to my bedroom slowly opens with a lilt

I see him standing with drops oozing down his lips

As his eyes are covered by a fleshly eclipse

Brian grins the grin of a devilish imp under steroids sway

Then Brian returns to my attic to hibernate for the day