sometimes the shadows move.
it's not really easy to notice, it's subtle, but once you see it, it's hard to stop. they grow. and they curl like smoke, forming different shapes.
coming alive. not like poets talk about, but alive in the most literal sense. they grow eyes that follow you and mouths with glinting teeth that peer out of the darkness and whisper in your ear while you sleep. When you hear that high pitched whine, that buzz in your ears, that's them trying to talk to you in their voices that are just beyond the cusp of your consciousness.
They are with you wherever you go. the good ones protect you, wrap you up in themselves like a blanket, keep you safe when you walk home.
They keep you safe from the bad ones.
Those shadows on hot days that are just a bit thicker than the rest, that give you an uneasy feeling, that you don't want to touch. there's a glint of something shiny in the dark, and it's not a coin.
So few people notice the shadows. people rarely notice anything of importance. they squash down their instincts, ignore the voices in their heads, you should never ignore those voices. they keep you alive.
well, when they don't want you dead they do.