The Light

The torn lampshade gave off an errie light.

It keeps away the things that bite.

These things that live for the night.

Staying away from everything bright.

My nervous sweat smells ripe.

My scalp feels too tight.

I must stay near the light.

This I feel is right.

I do what I have to do to subdue my fright.

No one is around to hear my plight.

This is a very long night.

At this I feel contrite.

I refused help to be polite.

Now I am out of sight.

Holding for protection an iron pipe.

Hiding here under the lampshade's errie light.

Away from these things that bite.

The things that live for the night.

Will I live? I might.