The socket on the wall has a face. It stares at me, torments me and makes itself known in my presence. It taunts me from the wall, mocking my pitiful morality.

  It does not talk, nor does it sing. Once in a while it makes a sound of humming like a bug. Though I know it is watching me and devising it's plan to end my volatile existance.

  Oh yes, the socket. It has positioned itself, horizontally from my face rested in it's pillow, so as I lay there and stare at the wall The beady little eyes of the socket gape at me in a fixed position. They never blink. That sneaky little fucker.

  As soon as I close my eyes every night,I envision that face behind my eyelids, and shiver in fear as I am more vulnerable now than before.

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