There are impressions in my skin

Where there shouldn't be any

There are shadows in my peripheral

Where there shouldn't be any

Stretching in the safety of my kitchen

I feel tremors of a poltergeist

Rattling through my bones

Leading your presence to the source of the problems

Your dark ghastly hands reach out

Fingertips intending to impale my body

I pray that you will let me bleed out

To rot on the floor with the crumbs missed by the broom

However you can't leave me to succumb to such a fate

If there's one curse we both share

It's our compulsion to plan

And you've got one

As I stand with my hands stretched to the sky

Drawing in one full breath

Your plan goes into effect as my mind plays tricks

And I lose my grasp on my inhale

One by one the impressions in my skin grow deeper

I try to brush them off with my own hands

The sensation is gone but you've already gained another small victory

As I flee from the false security I created in the safety of my kitchen