Best Sleep Paralysis Poems
“Sleep paralysis is like a waking nightmare, except you can’t escape it.” – Unknown
Tonight, when the
jilted bells toll,
my decayed
soul sighs,
I lay paralyzed
beneath an estuary sky
of thin fluffy ruffles-
cashmere mattress
of cotton coated clouds,
with stories over time-
like a silent slave chained
to sinister darkness,
within an ice-gold
casket of nightmares,
as my skin is folded,
wrapped around,
inside black
chiffon clothe-
this mind is
held by ghosts,
shivering from
echoing terrors,
whilst exhaling clusters
of claustrophobic truth,
searching for the
fight between
shackled knuckles,
screaming, yet, I
hear restlessness,
questioning the
angels of sleep;
If this isn’t life
after death,
why do I hear
springs sing
seraphic symphonies
of celestial showers?
Perhaps, the
blinding glow
of drizzling diamonds,
and ivory pearls
of seven
serene seas,
are mere signs of
heaven’s gate
being unlocked.
Although I can
barely move,
third eye keeps
pacing faster
than my shadowed voice,
where I walk down
the lane of delirious visions,
wondering if this is
my Silhouette
in a realm of lies.
For unwritten fate,
has lines of my
life quilted with silk
across a pillow of fog,
where consciousness
is out of sight,
rendered colour-blind,
and my heart remains
a thief in duress.
But as I struggle
to untie twisted
thoughts between
dusk and dawn,
I find stars of relief,
choking on mercy,
wrapped in denial-
I inhale moonlight,
I am now awake.
Red digits glare at me
3:39 in the morning
I can’t feel my legs
My arms
I can’t move
My chest is a compressed spring, tight
It is hard to breathe
My door creaks open
No
Footsteps on the wooden floors of my bedroom
No,not tonight. Please not tonight.
Terror fills my chest as the intruder enters my bed, sliding beneath
My blanket as if it was their own.
This is evil. I can feel it. This isn't real!
Skeletal arm around me
They are ice cold and I can’t scream
Don’t touch me Don’t touch me Don’t touch me Don’t touch me
Go away please
I want to scream,
To move
To run
Run away!
But I cannot move
as icy breath caresses the back of my neck
Their lips are dry and
they are skin and bone
There is no warmth
and I feel hollow
As the kiss is planted behind my ear
“Not today. You aren’t ready today. “
He.
His voice is raspy, as hollow as he feels
as he presses himself against my back
His ribs rub against me as he leaves, moving a hair away from my face.
I do not know his face
I do not want to know his face
What was that?
My door is shut and I try to move but still find it futile to move
I scream myself awake
For the fourth time this week
A man wearing funeral clothes
Tongue tied, an unspoken tryst.
He smiles, like an affectionate holocaust
A quadrupedal wood, the locus
of a hoover act.
An assigned peacemaker painted
Over the Judas kiss.
And the one in a dress
I dont pray,
Nor his cousins are my prey.
So i return, my oldest friend
He bulids a concrete wall on
my chest,
Waiting for my heart to turn into a sapphire.
As i carry around his gifts
The kaleidoscopes, the Pavlovian nerves,
The rings of the my eyes that
aren't on my side.
The other one gets all the light,
The hails, the knees to the ground.
No parasites in his body
With neighbours mowing,
their own cells clean.
And four months, is a holy time.
A life time of abyss, retreat flagged love
Letting the devil's teeth out in every photograph.
Ah, the kids carrying flowers!
cannabis.
You lionize, idolize
Let them eat your dreams up, like cannibals.
Their tickers ticking too fast,little
violet explosives.
How they dread the same gates guarded by a goddess,
No gold and marble like The Hours'
But i fancy my rewards regardless
the red.
And i dont pray, my name is an oxymoron.
It rains a little and you ask for a scythe
You, moron!
It always ends the same drenched in sweat and fear.
The pain of death always feels so real and near.
Stuck frozen in place, eyes wide.
It crawls around my room I'm paralyzed,
Eyes dart across the room horrified.
It reaches my bed where I lay in a death state
Nails dig into my shoulders as it leans in. I feel like bait.
My ears ring from the loud cries. It wants my soul.
Jokes on it, I'm ginger so I only have a black hole.
Released but not forgotten, I'll see it again tonight.
one half’s an arc the other a strobe ~ light becomes your coagulant
signals and synapses firing off sparks ~ try open eyes but you can’t
all bound together forming a dream ~ welded to the somnambulant
At 3:00am I found myself outside,
Mind was awake but flesh was in deep deep sleep,
A sense of ghostly presence-I couldn't see.
A heavy shadow weighed upon my chest,
All breaths and thought turned into a dreadful rest.
I felt cold, dumb and naive,
When someone close to me whispered my name.
A moment when couldn't even wail,
Couldn't speak and move even my eyelids refused to fall,
My shuddered bone marrow tried to move and hide,
But suddenly everything faded like an ephemeral cloud,
No one was there no suffocation no more fretful crowd.
I couldn't recognize was it a dream or real,
Like A lost page of a mysterious book that's never clear.
Somewhere curiosity sparked and knew what i lacked,
Intriguing isn't? Some call it's a biological( Rem paralysis)
And others a supernatural attack.
The sleep demon
Comes by in the evening
When you should be dreaming
So why are you screaming?
You drift off to sleep
You start to feel weak
But then you can’t speak
Not even a squeak
A shadow appears
It wakes up your fears
It’s a fear that you recognize
It leaves your body paralyzed
No you can’t scream
you’re dead silent
You feel the weight
Of an invisible giant
It grabs you by the soul
Don’t let it take you whole
You’ve gotta fight it back
Before it fades to black
Because the sleep demon
Comes by in the evening
When you should be dreaming
So why are you screaming?
I rouse from my nocturnal torment, with a hazy amnesia of the terror that just filled my head.
With stalwart conviction
d I purposefully open my eyes to view my surroundings—
Yet the room seems wrong,
a shadowy figure peripherally mocks me.
I make a futile effort to turn my head and look at my foe.
Invisible iron shackles make me a prisoner to my own bed.
The air thickens, syrup-slow, pressing lungs that forget how to rise.
My tongue lies dead behind clenched teeth; no scream can climb the throat’s sealed well.
It draws nearer—
not footsteps, but a thickening of darkness,
a subtraction of light where light should not be taken.
No face, only the suggestion of one:
two hollows where eyes should burn,
a mouth that is only absence smiling.
It sits at the mattress edge,
weight without mass,
and the springs do not groan.
I feel the cold seep in—
not from window drafts,
but from the place where its hand almost touches my chest,
hovering, deciding.
Heart hammers against ribs like a trapped bird,
each beat loud enough to wake the house,
yet silent to the world beyond my skull.
Time stretches thin,
seconds become centuries pinned beneath its gaze.
I count them in pulse, in panic,
in the slow drip of sweat that cannot fall.
Somewhere distant, a streetlamp flickers—
proof the ordinary night continues.
Cars pass. A dog barks twice.
Life moves on without me.
And still it watches,
patient as stone,
as if my fear is a wine it has waited lifetimes to taste.
Then—
a tremor, faint as a moth’s wing.
The iron softens.
Fingers twitch once,
a small rebellion.
The shadow tilts its head,
curious, almost disappointed.
It begins to thin,
edges fraying into smoke,
receding like ink pulled back into the pen.
I drag one breath—
shallow, ragged, miraculous.
The room rights itself.
The lamp glows ordinary amber.
The figure is gone,
leaving only the memory of weight,
the afterimage of absence.
I lie still a long minute,
afraid to believe I am free,
afraid the next blink will summon it back.
Outside, dawn is considering the horizon.
I turn my head—
at last—
and the room answers with nothing
but silence,
and the slow, grateful rise of my chest.