paranoia: a poem

Five days spent in a local hotel
Five days lost in his personal hell
In the mirror he looks to see
An image of someone other than he

He gathers up his little treasures
A syringe, a pipe... such desperate measures
He fears what lurks outside the door
He knows that he's been waited for

Someone's been watching his every move
Of his dirty secret, they disapprove
He knows that there's nowhere to hide
They're in his head, they've gotten inside

Cautiously he moves toward the door
Aware of each sound in the walls and the floor
Starting to cry he chokes the tears back
Choosing to focus on an imminent attack

They've toyed with him but now they're done
They want him dead, should he fight or run
He steps futilely into the morning glare
To find that there is no one there.

Phillip B. Lasiter
February 15, 2008