[ pictures | prose | flashes of awe ] by Mike Yost

Image

Always Watching

I felt them on the back of my neck
Icy eyes with dangling fingers
Scraping just above the skin
Pulling at the fine hairs

I stop
And turn my head
Feet still planted
Narrowing my eyes
The porch void of any human gaze

I turn back, slowly, scratching at the back of my neck
Gravel now grinding under my shuffling feet
No one was there
No one was watching

And I begin to shuffle away faster

© Mike Yost

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s