A/N: Prologue(ish) poem to the one-shot in the next chapter. This particular poem didn't seem to fit with the other poem "categories" I had.
"They're Everywhere!"
Garry can't remember when
but now he is aware
of every existing doll.
Did their eyes always follow like that?
Is that grin a little wider?
He quickens his pace.
Garry can't remember why,
he can no longer look in a painting's eyes.
His hands twitch.
Are they going to leap from frames?
Did that one whisper his name?
He runs.
Garry doesn't remember how
that statue became smashed open
in the yard below
or why those nails
have been hammered in your self-portrait.
He's sorry so sorry sorry
Garry's friends stratch their heads
as he clears his flat of visual art,
then sets fire to them in the back.
"They're everywhere," he cries,
covering his eyes,
refusing to leave the bathroom-
Any wonder I don't visit art galleries?