James Kelley Poet Free verse

The Veil

I've found no rest under the veil. 
Terrors spool their wretched gifts
atop a haggard pillow- lying in wait. 
Waiting for my conscious mind to 
become exasperated enough to 
fall from the fraying rope of sanity.
I go to War. Instinctually scrambling 
for energy. Determined not to succumb. 
Because sleep has lost its comfort. 
But, as the sound of knives sharpening
ripens inside grey matter and I begin
to see the crimson curtains shut- 
I cower, and inevitably fall. 
Lost to the Demons I've created, 
the memories I've tattooed into 
the place that was once a haven. 
Writhing and bruising knuckles 
against walls made of neglected 
hope. Visions plastered against 
my cage crumble and I become 
encapsulated by an existential 
anomaly that I've, on so many sleepless 
nights tried to quantify by starlight. 
I have no answer. 
Only sore hands, and shaking limbs.
Red eyes, and sweat soaked sheets.
A dizzy recollection of what I can only 
assume in the moment is, a sample.
An angry God's warning. 
Hell is real. 
I've been there. 
So, I ice my hands and pluck the 
dreams out of my eyes, and mold 
the remains into a verse,
only to clutch it and wonder.
What does it mean? 
-James Kelley 2018

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