In Me

 There is a void in my days with no way to fill it. If my mind is not occupied with the random happenings of life, there is a sadness that lurks like a killer around the corner, watching me, waiting to murder any hope of joy.

 There is a blank space in my pages with things that I am too scared to write. What if the words rise up from the page, move on my arms, travel up to my face and crawl in my mouth like so many spiders. 

 There is a darkness in my heart that I dare not poke. This animal alive, grinning and slithering, filled with poison, forms dark lips to spit the question, "are you going to act like a pussy, boy?"

 There is a scream in my soul that just will not emerge. The sound rolls around in the box of my rib cage, growing stronger with every passing day, waiting to explode, like a murder of ravens from inside me.

Every prayer a fuck you to the deaf gods.