The Ghosts in the Muse

Sitting here, alone.
Once again, alone.
Shy in the presence of myself.
I stutter words that crumble in my mouth--
dust in my mouth and in my mind...
dry, hot powder
and I’m speechless, humiliated.
My brain heaves and sucks at the emptiness.
Fragments of thoughts pollute my mind
like pieces of a shattered mirror.
They reflect the roaring silence within and without.
My ghostly audience of invisible faces
glare through black sockets.
They grin and watch me.
Their eerie faces are dead... haunting my existence,
tormenting me with their unwavering gaze
that burns smouldering holes into my senses.
They screech in stony silence and it tears at my sanity.
I can not escape them.
They are a part of me.
I run until the air scorches my lungs
and their laughter hunts me endlessly.
Hollow.
Mocking me. Taunting me.
For I will never be rid of them.
They are my unspeakable fears,
consuming every ounce of my spirit.
Ominous wraiths that no light can banish.
Their playground is my soul,
they feast on my insecurities.
All I can do is cower in their menacing presence
as they devour me.