Nightmares Are Waiting
Writing metaphors
with psychedelic ink,
but they are living things;
taking me to hell in a basket
of my own creation.
I open my mouth to scream,
and out come flying wings
like seraphim fleeing flames
from my unkempt mind;
a portal of delusion.
Psychedelic ink in lines
of script like code,
entangling my brain,
invading the hidden place
where nightmares are waiting.
Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment