Being Afraid

Being afraid is scary
Even, you could say
Frightening
Alone in the night, yet
Surrounded by painted
Women, their other worldly
Vivid, watching eyes
Looking at me
From inside of me
The call is coming
From inside the house
They are in my veins, in my
Very cells, and it is
All I can sometimes do
To paint them out of me
Put them on paper
Yet once there, they haunt me
When people look at them
They say, Oh how pretty
Or, too much paint
But they don't see the
Blood, though it is
Right in front of them
They don't see the strings
Of heart muscle and
Tendons where they
Were ripped out of me
With a gore-covered
Paintbrush