All I Ask Is That You Expire Quietly

I decided to work the graveyard shift tonight. I
spend my nights running, so it’s not as if I would
lose sleep – you took that from me months ago.

I reported to the graveyard at the witching hour.
After you left, I couldn’t bear to be away from
you – so I come here every day, under work’s guise.

The tombs are loud tonight. Piercing wails cut
through the misty air, creating swirls usually seen
in dust kicked up in harsh sunlight.

I passed by where you rest on my rounds. You
reached up from the dirt and tried to grab my
ankle – I ran away as fast as I could.

I would never be fast enough to outrun you.

Sleep Paralysis

A guttural voice muttered
from the shadows that engulf me,
reeking of danger and death.

I am blind. The impenetrable
blackness consumes the light
around me. I suffocate.

The words from the darkness are
inaudible, yet somehow are more
frightening and true for that.

I need to wake up. I try to move
a leaden arm to my slumbering
guardian. 
I am frozen.

A face begins to reveal itself,
emerging from its gloomy cocoon,
a death moth to burrow into my skin.

I breathe as hard as I can, hoping to
wake my sleeping brain. I cannot
escape from my poison sleep.

The darkness evaporates and light
permeates my retinas, burning them.

I am awake. I am safe.