There's a ghost shifting in my room.
It keeps me alive at night -
moaning a cold electric hum.
It's all smoke and darkened
mirrors, that bounced off walls
to show the ghastly emptiness
of a room devoid of day.
It rips through me and shakes
my head like a tremor.
It sits on my chest,
and spits poison into my wincing mind.
It flows through me and leaves
with me an empty nausea;
and each morning it leaves me
to wake up alone.