Nomad Writer

Their eyes follow her;
Parasites stuck to her back
Boring beneath the dermis
To burrow themselves
Within the gel-soft nucleus
Holding together the photons
Centering her world
Which spin and jerk;
Helter-skelter off its axis
Even after she’s long fled their sight

Those eyes
Bulge from the shadows
Blinking from the walls
With wispy lashes that droop
Over their soulless yet intent gaze;
So much scarier
Than the disembodied voices
That often whisper cold and eerie nothings
At her back
Because these eyes
Watch her with indiscernible scrutiny
Open to her own paranoid judgments
That leave her screaming and sobbing into the night
Begging the darkness
To leave her alone
Though it embraces her
With a quiet, unyielding sympathy