His demons come at night.

Creep up on him at his low.

Horrifying moans an screams to tow.

At what I fear to know.

They torment him,

Ferment him.

In his nightly slumber.

He’s more at peace in the waking hours.

Before the bottle, cause’s him to topple.

Into the abyss of nightmarish twist’s.

He says little of his history.

But hints at the source.

Of hell’s gate keepers and

Their relentless force.

Like bates outta Haiti.

Them banshee screams.

To once again torment

His sordid dreams.

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