Horrific shadows chase me through the night.
Where is my sword? Where is a light?
I hear the footsteps getting nearer and nearer.
I'm out of time. I've lost all that I hold dear.
From under the bed reaches a hand,
A terrible grasping claw of a twisted man.
I scramble away, feeling his grip tear at my shoe.
I'm out of sane ideas and I don't know what to do.
Through the dark kitchen hallway I hurry,
But from within the dishwasher I hear a scurry.
An eye peeps through, peering at me with a dark desire,
So as I rush past, I spill the oil and light a cleansing fire.
Up the stairs and in the closet I find hidden a powerful tool of force;
A high-powered harpoon cannon, big enough to take down a horse.
If I go fast and hard, I might be able to surprise them while they're still confounded.
So lock and load and here I go, I burst out of that small room and find myself surrounded.
But I'm only just getting started tonight.
Time to enjoy my glorious flight!
I aim the harpoon through the window and pull the trigger to let the harpoon free.
The hook hits, and I see my chance! I leap out the window, clinging to the rope, and land right in a tree.
I jump down, finally safe it seems.
But what an impotent wish, such pathetic dreams.
From the alleyways come more, holding out hands with contract and a pen;
This poem here is a scrap of journal from the day the salesmen took over, and the world began to end.
A simple warning: A new dishwasher or mattress only sounds comfy and warm...
Until the clever sales team begins to swarm.
The last month consisted of needing to buy a new bed, go dishwasher shopping, and finally buying the cheapest TV I could find. I discovered that salespeople are incredibly helpful at trying to get you to buy expensive things.
That's what they exist for
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