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Ancient Artifact
it happened again,
i jolted awake with a bloody murder scream
burning a hole into my throat.
it happened again,
i reached out for a hand
that wasn't there.
it happened again,
my heart stopped dead
as i realized i was alone.
ruffled hair
lazy trails
ice burning skin
this is not my story to tell
hushed whispers
thundering hearts
citrus candles aflame
these are not my scars
acrylic nails
soft sheets
light melodic laughs
yet my nightmares are filled with nothing else
Nightmares from when I was 6 years old
return to terrorize me at twenty
and I keep discovering little things
that might mean more.
I begin to realize the intricacies,
hearing them whispering on the streets
and a news report in my head
reporting everything I’m doing.
Specters of people invade my room,
searching, sneaking, stealing,
taunting, tormenting, torturing,
and then fading into thin air.
Tell my doctor and he sends me
where I can’t wear shoe-laces,
or smoke a cigarette outside designated times.
They pass out pills, make me forget I exist.
Tired.
I am exhausted.
My bed holds no solace for me.
My sleep is plagued by nightmares.
My siblings sleep soundly beside me..
How envious I am.
By dawn, the terrors have been taken from my mind
leaving no visible trace but the race of my heart
the sweat on my brow,
and the tears streaking down on my face
My brain is my jailer.
My cranium is my cell.
My thoughts are my punishment.
My exhaustion is not only physical now,
but emotional as well.
I am done with the lies,
nightmares plague my thoughts day and night
I wish I was the one killed instead of her
I wish she didn't stop breathing
How unfair is it
That I still feel the air and breathe it
And Daisy's body has long been cold as ice
Buried in the unforgiving ground
It's unfair
That I have the guts to walk
when she never will again
Hoar mistletoe
Hangs in clumps
To the twisted boughs
Of this lonely tree.
Beneath its roots I often thought treasure was buried:
For the roots had enclosed a circle.
But when I dug beneath them,
I could only find great black ants
That attacked my hands.
When at night I have the nightmare,
I always see the eyes of ants
Swarming from a mouldering box of gold.
The light was burning very dim,
The little blaze was brown and red,
And I waked just in time to see
A panther going under the bed.
I saw him crowd his body down
To make it fit the little space.
I saw the streaks along his back,
And bloody bubbles on his face.
Long marks of light came out of my eyes
And went into the lamp--and there
Was Something waiting in the room--
I saw it sitting on a chair.
Its only eye was shining red,
Its face was very long and gray,
Its two bent teeth were sticking out,
And all its jaw was torn away.
Why do you not sleep. Beloved ?
It is so cold that the stars stand out of the sky
Like golden nails not driven home.
The fire crackles pleasantly.
And I sit here listening
For your regular breathing from the room above.
What keeps you awake, Beloved ?
Is it the same nightmare that keeps me strained with listening
So that I cannot read ?