Stephen King has scared me
since I was a young adult,
cars coming to life
and mysterious happenings in the woods.
Normal looking towns
along the coast of Maine
throttled by those things
that cause my bed to shake at night
beings who are not what they seem
however normal in the light
the thin curtain that separates
life from death
is torn asunder by his
storytelling gift.
He creates horror to such a degree
it filters into my dreams
and completely terrifies me
but somehow gives me the tools
to deal with present day anxieties
and cope with the psychology
of grief, sadness, and fear,
because at least my reality
is more manageable
than the situations he imagines
and I am grateful to return
to the daily trials of my mundane life
still startled with the thump
just outside my window
and the scary sounds coming from
my neighbor’s garage at night
I don’t completely trust
the machines in my home
when I wake up screaming
from nightmares inspired by his writing.
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