Fear Around the Corner

by Mark Rawlins   May 12, 2015


He lurks around the corner
with his creaking, aching frame.
He's hunched around the corner
and he doesn't know his name.

I see him in the mirror,
he's the night time voice I hear,
and he lurks around the corner ....
The man that I most fear.
He mumbles and he fumbles
and he jumbles up his words.
He stumbles and he tumbles.
His existence is absurd.

He lurks around the corner
with his creaking, aching frame.
He's hunched around the corner
and he doesn't know his name.

His bones creak, his joints squeak,
he's lost his teeth and hair.
His bladder's weak, his future's bleak,
he seldom leaves his chair.
He breeds familiarity
for his inevitable fate.
He's a burden on his family
and a burden on the state.

He lurks around the corner
with his creaking, aching frame.
He's hunched around the corner
and he doesn't know his name.

He scribbles and he dribbles,
and he laughs at his own jokes.
He's cantankerous, and he quibbles,
he stutters and he croaks.
He repeats himself incessantly,
he forgets what he's just said.
He repeats himself incessantly
from his stinking, piss-stained bed.

He lurks around the corner
with his creaking, aching frame.
He's Hunched around the corner
and he doesn't know his name.

He wears a knitted cardy.
He sucks a Werther's Best.
He's blubbery and farty.
He wears an old string vest.
His baby bland ready meal
is spoon-fed from his lap.
He's dreaming of a better deal
as he drifts off for a nap.

He lurks around the corner
with his creaking, aching frame.
He's hunched around the corner
and he doesn't know his name.

He spins his yarns of yesterday,
and doesn't see the truth ...
that all his dreams will fade away
like the memory of his youth.
He fears for my tomorrow.
I fear for him today.
I fear for all his sorrow,
so I wish he'd go away.

He lurks around the corner
with his creaking, aching frame.
He's hunched around the corner ...
and he doesn't know MY name.

2


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Latest Comments

  • 3 months ago

    by mossgirl19

    Wonderfully rhymed and a great rhythm, great story too! The repetition here is addictive. I like it very much!

  • 1 year ago

    by Everlasting

    Ah, the melody ... The sad story, the repetition...

    I, like this. I can just read it... I don't know how many times till I become dizzy but the first time, the story just slipped through my mind and while I did not pay much attention to the content, the flow of the poem made me like it along with the rhythm.

  • 2 years ago

    by Wandering Lost

    If you can find it, I think you might find the short story, Tenth of December. I feel almost shameful in saying this writing was moving and beautiful, because I don't know if it is right to call such saddness and daily concern beautiful. It sounds lik you are very close to this man. I am glad he has you, as he sits there in his piss stained bed. http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2011/10/31/tenth-of-december

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