Man outside my window

lives my outside life,

trapping me within

my fishnet boundaries.

The skeleton of his soul

stands in piles

of cigarette butts

crunching underfoot.

The man was I

and I was he -

osmosis through glass

as I shut the window,

leaving a borderline crack

to squeeze to other side

of life, prying eyes open

to see my exterior man,

drawing face to glass

to behold the inner workings

of his buried thoughts,

begging to be confined

within his outlines

to entwine

inside his body

of sweeping darkness.

The man outside your window

dressed in black, watches

from a distance and pulls

his head back

when you walk by to look

because you feel your hairs

stand on end, at attention

from the eyes upon you

not once or twice

but many times have you felt this

from the man outside your window

the sense that he is there

There to hurt you

in ways you wouldn't, 

couldn't imagine

Yet imagine you do

For you do not remember

putting on your black pants

and your black sweater

to go with your black mask

And when you glimpse the truth

you do not see the man outside 

your window in the mirror

He sees him...

There is a man outside your window...which is fortunate for him. If he were inside your window it would suggest that he is two dimensional and he would almost certainly suffoccate. Not to mention windows are expensive to replace, and it would be hard to look past a man inside your window. I mean, I'm laid back, but that would probably bother me.

Oh, I'm sorry, you think I'm ignoring your concern, being condescending. I assure you that is not my intent. I am a bit daft, but not mean spirited. So you are saying somebody was outside you window, and you don't know who it is? I'm still a little puzzled, I mean, isn't this still the best case scenario? I mean, better he was outside then inside the house with you...and we have been through the in the window thing already...

I see the dark shadow of a man outside of my bedroom window. I wondered to myself how he could be outside my window, my bedroom was on the third story and you can't possibly have a way up to my balcony. I see the red eyes of the man, the eyes of something evil and demonic. I didn't have to look closely at him. I didn't have to know what he was or who he was to know that this man was someone that would hurt me. He was someone who would not reason. He would give no explanation as to what he would do or why.

I could see the dark energy that he emitted. Energy that meant he was a bad soul and that he was in fact evil.

I was scared because I knew he would be unpredictable in what he would do to me. I've heard the stories and the urban legends and myths about the dark shadowed man with the red eyes. I've heard what he would do to his victims. I've heard that the bodies have been nearly unrecognizable, like they have been mulled by a vicious animal.

Seeing this man outside my window scared the life out of me and I prayed that I would survive and not be killed by the hands of this man.

"There's a man outside your window," Oliver says, backing away from the curtains.

"I know," Gloria replied, "I see him."

Oliver shifts nervously and focuses his gaze on her.

"Do you," he stumbles with his words, "Do you want me to get rid of him?"

"No," Gloria says with a sly smile. She dims the lights and approaches Oliver. "I told him to come over."

Oliver licks his lips as Gloria undoes the knot of her bathroom. She teases him, making sure to take her time undressing. Oliver's pants tighten, but his eyes dart back to the window.

"Should we, um," his words fight against him, "Should we close the curtains? I can tell him to leave."

Gloria lets her bathrobe drop. Oliver stifens as he takes her in. She poses in her bright red lingerie, the silk dances on her skin with the slightest move. Oliver adjusts the collar of his shirt.

"He doesn't have to go," Gloria says. Her voice is a whisper in his ear. "He likes to watch." One arm goes around his neck as she pulls in for a short kiss. It's tender and the short exchange leaves Oliver barely able to control himself. He shakes and begs to go upstairs.

"Oh, honey, no," Gloria chuckles, "We can't go upstairs. I wouldn't want to get my room messy."

"Ok," Oliver says, "But, can we at least close the curtains?" Oliver points to the window. "That man is still out there."

Gloria smiles as she lifts a couch cushion and pulls out a large butcher knife. "Good."

Oliver's eyes grow wide as he watches her play with the tip of the blade. "I uh, I'm really not into kinky stuff."

Gloria shrugs as she glides over to Oliver. He backs away to the corner of the room. "That's too bad. My friend outside is," she points to the window. The man's face is just outside the glass. The night and dim lighting hides his idenity, but Oliver isn't concerned with him anymore.

"He loves this part." Gloria raises the knife, Oliver screams, and the man outside watches, enjoying every second of their encounter.

How long he's been standing there is anyone's guess. It isn't until I turn out the light that I even notice. His silhouette plays wih itself. 

I step into the shadow and grab my baseball bat. What's helping is the detail that I turned off the hallway light before stepping into the bedroom. I step outside.

He is gone. I make a mental note to be aware for our next encounter. This night, I will not sleep. I'm on the prowl.

There's a man outside your window,

he's looking straight at you

the darkness this man embodies

engulfs the shadows in your room.

There's a man outside your window

he's looking to be let in

he reminds you of your demons

and the struggle you face within.

There's a man outside your window

growing as the hours go by

creating a pitch black abyss

that drowns the last of your voiceless cries.

There's a man outside your window,

he disappeared without a trace

you look down at the battle scars

trying to forget the worst of your days.

There's a man outside my window.

I don't know what to do. I was trying to sleep, but then something hit the windowpane next to my bed, jolting me awake. I rushed over and pressed my fingertips across the cold glass, frosted from the Winter weather.

If I squinted hard enough, I could see him standing at our driveway. A tall, slender figure, holding an umbrella to shield himself from the snow coming down. It wasn't until he turned his head to look at me that I went to get my parents.

"MOM! DAD!" I shrieked, bolting out of my room and into theirs across the hall. I busted open their door and turned on all of the switches. Three lights turned on and the fan started whirring.

"Ugghh," one of them grumbled, starting to sit up. It was Dad. He rubbed his chocolate eyes and then gave me an annoyed glare. "What do you want, Polly?"

"There's a man outside our win-"

Before I could finish, a hand muffled my mouth from behind. I started to whirl around, but this person kept me in place and whispered, "The man outside doesn't mean any harm."