Haunted

Haunted By Joshua Martin P. Guanco

It always appears in the corner of my eye. With ill intentions so sharp, it yearns that I die. The specter hovers above me; my body paralyzed. Asphyxia is administered—leisurely inching to my demise.

Unforgiving shackles linger in every rhythm I respire. A poltergeist so cold that every sunrise and sunset is dire. Like a chokehold pressed on my neck, halting desire. Dousing my heart and setting my mind afire.

This haunting is a circle—almost perpetual. Never has it been unreal, nor even ethereal.

It is insinuated by this self as a cruel betrayal. It ebbs and it flows as if it is tidal.

It is a phantasm that juxtaposes every night over my bed. It blankets me in a lush void that subdues me with dread.

And all that is left are these soliloquies—and all things unsaid. Phrases that this phantom and I will keep forever haunted.

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