It comes in unknown numbers
From an unknown place
The invisible enemy
With the invisible face
You know it is big
From the howling it makes
In the morning it gives
Come darkness, it takes
It stalks your reflection
And you can't find a trace
Of the slugs that you feel
Crawling over your face
Your bedclothes are knotted
And your laughter misplaced
And your wife on her knees
And your memory erased
The Nothing's in charge
Of this nothingness race
Watch the grown men run...
See the Nothing take chase.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really enjoyed this poem Ashley. I wasn't sure if this was a dream-type poem or not but for me, it seemed alcohol or drugs were the ''monster'' in this poem. I may be completely off and I'm sorry if I misread this but I think it's wonderful either way. Very though provoking. Great poem. Sincerely, Mary