In the Dark Alone

Room black, heart racin’ like a flashbang popped, Ceiling lookin’ back at me, I swear that bitch don’t blink or stop, Shadows growin’ antlers, drippin’ pitch from every crooked knot, Coat rack turn to scarecrow, say my name like it forgot. Breath frost in the mid‑June air, that’s wrong, Hear a floorboard breathe like it’s tryin’ write psalms, Phone face down, screen off, no calls, If it light up once, I ain’t feelin’ this small. I ain’t scared of death, I’m scared death don’t text back, Hear my echo tremble, it be beggin’ for a second track, Silence thick as wet wool jammed down my fuckin’ neck, Every tick of that clock tap‑dances on my chest. My thoughts do graffiti on the inside of my skull, Tag “Bitch, you by yourself,” in a dripping neon hull, I got demons eatin’ popcorn in the mezzanine above, Watch me talk to empty corners like they owe me love. I’m the king of nothin’, sittin’ on a milk crate throne, Glow‑in‑the‑dark teeth from the monsters I own, I feed ‘em every night with another dial tone, Terrified I’ll wake up and they the only ones I know.

I don’t fear no blade, no ghost, no tombstone, I’m just fuckin’ terrified of bein’ in the dark alone, Four walls, no light, just the pulse in my bones, If the sun don’t call back, who gon’ carry me home? Nah, I don’t fear no blade, no ghost, no tombstone, It’s that pitch‑black room and a brain full of clones, All screamin’ over each other in a monochrome drone— What terrifies me most is bein’ in the dark alone.

Closet crack grinnin’ like it know my middle name, Hallway yawns open like a throat about to sing my shame, I can hear that fridge hum morph into choirs out of frame, Every little fuckin’ noise tryin’ to induct me into blame. Got a mattress floatin’ in a sea of static hiss, Where the shoreline should be is just a bottomless abyss, I can count every sin I got instead of countin’ sheep, They don’t jump the fence, they hang me with it while I sleep. I been hidin’ from the sunlight like it’s IRS, Now the dark want interest on every unpaid stress, It be scrollin’ through my secrets like a private RSS, Pullin’ headlines from my psyche that I never once confessed. I put my faith in lamp posts, cheap bulbs, phone glow, Like a fuckin’ cult of photons, anything to not be solo, ‘Cause when the blackout hits, my soul go FOMO, On the life I never lived while I was scrollin’ through a logo. Every time the power flicker, I rehearse my last rites, Practice sayin’ “I’m okay” to the walls at night, But the drywall know better, see the nail scars deep, From hangin’ up new masks ‘fore I try to fall asleep.

When the last bulb bust and the sky close its lid, When the streetlights quit and the crickets all dip, If I whisper for help, and nobody exist, That’s the only fuckin’ horror that I truly can’t dismiss.