Otherside

I've been chased once again. I am being chased by him. He follows me in my dreams and to the bus stop when I breath. He looks up from the translucent window to stare back into my eyes. He grabs me by the throat as I couch up blood. He throws me into the den as the lions ravage my bones for a meal. He whips me when I am bare-backed and broken. He chases me into the burning room only to close the door. He is the right hand man when the left one is pulling me away. He is the nymphomaniac surrounded by gestures to relieve myself with the next worthy opponent. He is the world in my eyes that seems at bay, but in reality crashes like a tidal wave of flames. He is the devil underneath, the other one between the sheets. He is not me. He will never be me again.