Last night, at 3:00
I woke up
With a sense of uneasiness
Of a pair of eyes, reluctant
To shut still
Revolving in the dark room
Swallowing shadows and half-baked sorrows;
An unfed beast of savagery.

The knife was close enough
As I gouged out my eyes,
Wrapped it well for temporary peace
Or so I believed…

Last night, at 3:15
All was quiet,
Except…
The droning of a chainsaw.
Or maybe, my mind,
Mulling over every mistake
Ruminating over every word
Spoken with slipshod haste.

The pills were glistening on the table
As I scooped a handful,
Trying to fit them between the
Battered dents of a broken conscience…

At 3:30, I decided
To rectify all my past mistakes.
Brought out a cluster of markers, and whiteners
Marked each place twice,
And relentlessly rubbed white ink
All over
To make them disappear, fade,
Vanish into the cool, night air.

What I was left with, was
Several layers of concealers
To normalize the bruises
Left by past lovers and abuses.

It was 3.45, and I had had enough
Of this heap of flesh and bones,
Weighing down on me like an anchor
To stabilize my roots that now knew
What it was, to breathe inundated.

Ropes and strings, I’d stage
My own puppet show.
I was a limp doll, all rags and fluff
Who could not feel,
The weight of a leaden heart
Spiraling down, below.

I crashed down on the floor at 4:00
At the wee hours of normalcy
Another failed attempt, another poor show
Had I been at it again?
The streaks of a breaking dawn
Covering up nightmares and daydreams alike;
I could never completely know…

 

2 August 2016

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2 thoughts on “Nightmares

  1. I love the rhythm the poem has, made by interruption of the time of the night. The starting makes it seem like a horror genre, nonetheless it’s about the wounds left by the demons inside people. Interesting way to make abuse a little attractive.

    1. I’m glad you liked it 🙂
      And as concerns abuse, well…hasn’t it always been kind of romanticized? Why else do people wish to recede into it, in spite of the insurmountable pain?

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