Nightmare Fabricator

I have always been afraid.

From lying on my bed at seventeen
and thinking what if I
could kill my own brother,

to wondering how serious
my father was when he said that he could
kill me and get away with it.

I came to horror thus, to existential dread,
the rotting carcass of the head
the grim bordello of the heart.

And if there’s grace at all
it’s passing these things off as art.