The Hounds

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 19, 2018

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Submitted: July 19, 2018

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That horrendous hound haunts me on my midnight misadventures
His coal coat covering him from all eyes but mine. Silently slinking in my shadow.
Nipping at my ankles with glistening teeth.
His ember eyes sheen in the darkness.
With every backward glance he is closer.
The hair on our spines stands in tandem.
The fog of our breath falls in sync.
The beat of our hearts racing in unison.
A hunched form fumbling for freedom.
A nightmare unassailable and inescapable.
Our deathly dance in decent towards insanity. Insatiable thirst for insufferable blood.
Speak softly. Do not be afraid.
The stench of fear is inalienable.
There is no hiding from us.
Night stalkers nigh slayers. No, sleepers. Cancerous cells dealing dreams to unsuspecting
succubus.
We are demons. We are damned.
We are demeaning and destructive.
We are instinctive.
We are self loathing. We are self conscious. We are self harming.
We are two pack dogs with no alpha between us. Two omegas malignant and malnourished.
Feasting on rotten flesh.
Fighting off fleas and infected by inflection.
We are one. We are the same. We are that hound.
That hound is me.


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