The Last Turn Of The Screw

Twilight, thickening like dark soup under an upturned bowl,
Poured and spread through tortuous alleys;
Soft but clear footfalls echoing on the cobblestones, stole
Behind me! Shadowy nooks and crannies 

(The face in the mirror watches.)

Beckoned; faceless eyes through broken windows leered and winked,
At the sudden gust of wind, that with ghoulish laughter
Swept up dust, rotting leaves, bits of plastic, pieces of plaster -
And now I'm running! Panting, breathless, harder and faster

(The face in the mirror sneers.)

Than ever, but all in vain. The unknown footsteps gain on me,
Forever closer, nearer and nearer, in the dark
Alley, that I know will no longer hold fast,
But will suddenly fold (as it did in the past) in on itself

(The face in the mirror snarls.)

Into a brick wall. Everything happens just as
It always has, and always will. Deaths come together,
And lives fall apart. Turning and twisting, again and again
Until (oh! the deafening crescendo!) the pain 

(The face trapped in the mirror screams.)

Adds the last turn of the screw.