I was driven to the dark side by you.

The psychological warfare you declared on my soul

was swift, brutal, embracing and total; for that is what you do,

the use of my fears, you coveted and stole.

You climbed into my bed and ravaged me late at night,

it is not an accusation, more of a memory of the first line

we shared, and then forever, I have kept you in sight,

even with you missing from the night time, your nightmares became mine.

Only your American cousin, an even darker persona

was able to take me down a more disturbing path.

Your use of imagery; squalid, sexual, animalistic and the dirt ridden

installed me as your horrific life time donor

as your words injected fear, real, unforgivable and brash,

the horror of your nightmare stories, clean in  the open air, real, not unhidden.

For James Herbert, 1943-2013.

Ian D. Hall 2015.