Thursday

He felt the eyes on him when he woke up
He heard little doors opening
By the time he finished his coffee he could
See the little demons coming out of the walls
And they were throwing little pebbles and weaving
The strands
Of doubt, insecurity, discouragement, hopelessness, intimidation,
apprehension, worry...
Within the hour
He was being pelted by their stones
As the little demons grew and laughed at him
He was anchored to his chair by
The strands of fear, dread, despair, horror, terror...
Woven into a net
Of ropes
He felt the bonds of Gulliver
By noon the demons were larger than life
Beating him with boulders of dejection and loss
He sat staring wide-eyed into the void of himself
A tear ran down his cheek
One drop of hope to turn the mountain into sand
Tomorrow, he would close their eyes
And keep the portal shut