Shadow

It's there, big and huge and cackling and gobbling,
cramming its great maw with gobs of flesh,
flecks of foam and bits of stuff flying everywhere
and you feel disgust and turn away
and as you turn it snakes out an arm,
like a straw it gets into your brain and sucks
everything inside you, all the light
and all the bits of fizz in your mind
get sucked dry and all becomes flat grey,
and you tell yourself it's not real but there it is,
everything flat and grey and listless
and nothing to be done about it,
and you turn back and can't see it anymore,
the great bobbling weaving head is gone from view,
and you realize with growing dread
that it has got inside you,
gruesome and parasitic and bleeding off
light before you can ever see
and the only way to stop this monster
is to stop believing,
to cast off the fear and dread
or at least to look past them
and declare with full conviction,
this is not real, this is not real, this is not real,
reach out and touch the real world,
the rugged bark, hands in real dirt and living leaves,
fingers touching other moving fingers,
eyes seeking the depths of other eyes,
warm arms enfolding,
this, this is real.