Wilbur… He beckons me from sleep He hovers there in shadow Lost between the pitted ivory walls And stiletto shards of moonlight Growing on the concrete floor Beside my bed “Don’t scream,” he warns “It’s only me.” And I see him now A visage suspended in ether That lovable, talking horse The discoursing Mr. Ed. His phantom floats with languid ease The severed entrails writhe With a life all their own The open ends of each vein a maw Opening, closing, mouthing accusations “Killer!” they scream His eyes glazing over With mucus and blood “Murderer,” they seem to cry To hide my eyes I try raising my arms But they are lost somewhere Behind me “One more time,” he utters His voice colder than a tomb Damper than the grave “You must do it one more time, He says “No!” I scream “I won’t kill again!” But he hovers there still He dangles on the air Still talking Talking… Always talking… Saying I must show him That I’m Sorry “Look at me,” his voice angered “You did this!” No! I scream. I pound my head against the bedpost Keeping rhythm with his rantings Hoping to shake the wraith from my mind Get out of my head Get out I cry! His voice echoes in the distance There is a ringing in my ears Needles catch fire in my brain But the accusations grow louder Still they grow louder And as my world turns suddenly red I still hear him Talking…