The Stalker.

You captivate me to tears as you hold me in your iron vice.

I don't know how in all of these years we have never touched,

Until this pocket of a moment extended into an eternity.

Maybe you have always shown it, but I never realized you were there.

When you touch me, I can see you smiling, teeth dazzling in plain view.

I watch your hands encroach the limits of time to embrace the escapers.

And even in unconsciousness, when I am fast asleep in bed,

You linger in, listless, to the dreams that hover in sporadic waves -

There you are, you found me, like a lover that won't let me be.

You whisper of eternity and tuck around me my sheets of black.

Beneath the glow of the moon, a short finger caresses down my cheek.

"You won't know it, now or soon," and you dissipate to visit the next.

Illness

I've got the illness.
I am one of them. 
It manifests inside me.
And this is the end.

I've got the illness.
There is nowhere to hide.
The red coats my eyes.  
The disease grows inside. 

I've got the illness.
Put me with them in the pen.
Sentenced to life.
And to rot, I'm condemned.        
                                                
I've got the illness.
Nothing can change.
My heart is a stone.
Only myself to blame.

I've got the illness.
Leave me alone.
This life that we had
Has withered and flown.
    
I've got the illness.
Buried we'll be.
Alone in his coffin -
For eternity.
Wrapped in a blanket of jealousy.
Boxed in - as God as my witness!
Don't look at me now,
For I've got the illness.