A Nauseous Nocturne
Another night deprived of slumber,
Hours passing without number.
My eyes trace 'round the room.
I lay dripping sweat and now quiet certain
That tonight the final curtain
Drops upon my short life's percious play.
From the darkness, by the closet
Comes a noise, much like a faucet
Makes: a madd'ning drip-drip-dripping sound.
It seemed some ill-proportioned beast.
Anticipating me deceased,
Is drooling posion puddles on the ground.
A can of Mace, a forty-five,
Is all I'd need to stay alive.
((to be continued))
