Walk a mile

Haunted

Voices taunting,
dancing, prancing,
vacant visages haunting,
their dark derision lancing
my bubble. A toxic explosion
of gibes and insults, slowing seeping
into my sanity. A wicked, depraved corrosion
that rots my refuge, staining, nightmares sleeping
waiting to catch me unawares. A dark sense of foreboding
that heaves and shudders, clammy, bearing the blackened brand of trouble.
They are at once gleeful and mournful, their shrieks echoing in bleeding ears, goading,
a sulphurous malodour that whirls and eddies, the stench permeating my haunted bubble.


Free verse with ABAB rhyme scheme. Written 30 June 2015.

2015 Quill for Best Short Poem, Structured.
Second place in the "Invalid Item"  (June 2015).