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Restless
Spider-black crawls the night.
Blankets hang like obese bats
from sleeping arms.
Is it the bewitching hour?
No it is 4 o'clock.
Sleep slugged me at 2.30AM
nightmares came and went.
No ghosts or ghouls
just the rumblings of a disordered soul.
Snippets of an ordinary life
stretched into horror stories,
days I have spent a lifetime trying to forget
slip under my eyes to turn on
a whirring movie projector.
When I get up to pee
my urine smells like stale wine,
back in bed that head on the pillow
disowns me
as I dare once again
to close my eyes.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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