Wicked
By: Scott Reinwand
Crawling on all fours.
Head tick, tick, ticking.
Nails sharp on the floors.
Talons click, click, clicking.
Heads up, up in the rafters.
Bodies dead on the ground.
They’re drip, drip, dripping.
Hand around your throat.
Skin is rip, rip, ripping.
Quiet, sh, sh shh.
It comes out at night.
Don’t want it coming for you.
I heard it’s got eyes deep in its head.
Flesh with a s...