it’s halloween, and I’m haunted,
ghosts from holy hallways here, again.
i built castles to house these Moorish banshees,
these wide-winged vultures,
safe behind stained-glass windows
that block out the light.
the darkness is quiet,
though these whispers too loud,
bringing light into those shadowed places.
i steel myself for visions of my demons,
and the feeling of bile.
rising like lava,
fever coursing my veins like morphine
causing me to bend and shatter.
to hide is useless,
to run is to keep running.
i stumble and fall,
this abyss swallowing me whole,
too weak to fight,
he tears me down again.
Brigid Hannon is a writer and caregiver from Buffalo, NY. She is currently digging through twenty years of writing looking for pieces for possible publication, and has likely fallen asleep at her desk. She can be found at https://hamneggs716.wordpress.com and on Twitter @stagequeen.