The shadow peers through my window every night,
I hear it before I see it,
a hush of breath against the glass.
I go to the window but it’s empty,
just the black lawns stretched
like a dark skin over the earth.
I feel at a loss to protect my daughter,
her small chest rising
with the oceanic rhythm of sleep.
Could it be—
but it isn’t—
a trick of light, a memory?
I don’t think that I should tell you,
but I am—please believe me,
I would never invent this kind of fear.
The air bends, as if something leans in,
as if it wants me to know
I am not alone.
I press my palm flat to the pane,
the cold glass,
the nothing beyond.
I remember my own mother’s silence,
the way she turned her face from me
when I told her of the man in the hall.
Now my child sleeps while I stand guard,
and the shadow keeps its vigil,
patient, endless,
hungry as night itself.
Running down Chicago Ave barefoot brain buzzing hymns and static, neon crucifix blinking above a bodega, the gospel of smoke and piss, all-night diner flickering with ghosts of jukeboxes past—she laughs in her sleep, god I miss her already, dreaming of Congo drums, 3AM baptisms, ash on my tongue and wind in my coat, don’t stop now daddy-o the night’s still twitching, hot-wired and like a midnight freight scream.
And I’m sliding through the alleyways slick with memory, rats preaching sermons in sewer tongues, corner kids lighting firecrackers like prayers, like warnings, boom boom into the neon womb, and I see her face again in a puddle, split by ripples, gone—heartbeat skips like a jazz snare, I talk to god in beer breath and static, say forgive me for leaving, for loving, for running with my ghosts on leash, for every wrong turn that felt right under sodium lights, wind howling confessions through busted windows, baby I ain’t slept since Clinton.
In the pitch darkness of the night
Where nightmares come to fright and haunt
I lie awake my heart in flight
In the pitch darkness of the night
Praying, pleading, for morning light
When fearsome terrors cease to taunt
In the pitch darkness of the night
Where nightmares come to fright and haunt
What are you thinking all alone, my dear
As you sit worried by your fire so bright
Do you reflect on the bad days of yore
While you stare at the red flickering flame
Is there something from your past that you fear
So you try to keep the dark out with light
As over nightmare memories you pore
And wonder who was there really to blame
One painful memory should not so sear
Which still haunts you dreadfully through the night
Striking deep within into your heart's core
With all the horror of a deadly game
Many of us share such memories sore
And suffer sleepless nights in senseless shame
The dark
dimly lit
Shivering shadows
strange scratching sounds
Amplifying
goosebumps
Hair standing on end
sleep denied
Fear buried
beneath the blankets
White faced in the morning
When I see your fantasy,
My heart is filled with ecstasy;
Roses my eyes do see.
When I set them to lie,
Over night's terrors they can't survive
But in your beauteous light do rely.
Goodnight to our sleepless souls,
Which linger not in holes;
But with endless oaths, stronger than poles:
Wherewith loving dreams can't help,
Espying the daily memories kep'.
We'd play in the downs
When the morning wears sweet-love gowns.
Indelible in the dark.
Love is stressed happiness:
That though it aches,.
Strengthens confidence of plain hearts.
Lo, Love be sickness:
To heal or let die away
Like a night turned out unto a day.
Night terrors invade my dreams late at night:
unable to breathe; I gasp, terrified.
Beyond nightmares, terrors fuel a fright:
that's so intense that on waking, I've cried.
Dead soldiers keep whispering in my head;
their constant murmur, morphing into screams.
And I say prayers to ward off the dead;
still, they manifest themselves in my dreams.
It begins with little more than a sigh:
then suddenly, I'm overwhelmed by fear.
Escalating, I feel like I will die:
and once I wake, the fear doesn't disappear.
War's unrelenting, agonizing pain;
tortures me, over and over again.
if i learnt one thing from my dream last night ~ never pick up small spiders
By
David Kavanagh
Programing a VCR and other terrors
In the old days
I used to dread
the chore
of programing my VCR
just never got the hang
of doing that
the VCR sat there
taunting me
begging me
to do it
to her
but I just never could
learn how to program
that damn machine
Na/GloPOWR/Mo prompt Day 18
Untitled
Deathly living till dying breath.
Somber dreaming a lively death.
Body ailing, self enemy.
Ever changing the remedy.
Boldly living from open womb.
Never changing, to closing tomb.
Never living a normal life.
Ever planning for daily strife.
~J.D. Cromwell
Why can’t I sleep, when will this end, this up all nights, becoming a trend, I can’t switch off, my head is full, my lights are out, my room is dull, there’s not much noise, my comfy bed, these nasty voices, inside my head, they never shut up, they never stop talking, if feel like I’m watched, there’s somebody stalking, where can it be, what was just said, I would be better, not living just dead, please make it stop, it’s making me ill, I’ve been taking my little pill, why doesn’t it work, I’m worn out for sure, my doctor was trusted, to give me the cure, is this the way it’s got be, will I never ever be free, one things for sure, one thing that’s real, this wasn’t really part of the deal, I just want to sleep, I want to switch off, why am I scared, why am I soft, night time terrors, and demons and voices, awake or asleep, surely I have the choices, the only thing I’m starting to see, is that these same horrors keep haunting me.
Restless sleep triggers delusional dreams,
that your beleaguered brain surrenders to.
And from night terrors, you awake to screams
for it feels so real; you think it's true
that spectral shadows are pursuing you;
and powerless, there's nothing you can do.
Though safe in bed, you feel you're in peril,
unable to dispel feelings of dread.
It's like finding your dog has gone feral,
and you're not sure if it's alive or dead;
while it chases you, growling, to be fed,
your feet tangled in the sheets of your bed.
Anxiety rises, reaching its peak,
while your heart mercilessly pounds your chest.
You feel disorientated and weak;
imprisoned in a nightmare you detest,
unable to wake, though you try your best;
panic, ensuring that you'll get no rest.
Scary night terrors often make you cry,
for you genuinely think you will die.
ALL these terrors / like stabbing my throat.
Within all seasons of years of all my life.
These quiet and unnoticed deaths...
Burying me within tons of fear and guilt.
Will you be a friend to a lost soul?
Or hide behind your face?
NOW say, are you polluted by overloaded
Sensory and information like a dysfunctional
Lover holding devices made by twisted
Geniuses? I'm a butterfly with a glass of
Merlot and purple is my heart by bruise
And deep disappointment.
My heart is another thing: sweet engine
Of abstract lips and words and paint
A soul machine of flesh and bone walking
Alone on a rock speeding throughout
The cold universe.
So suffer we do as all are mostly
Adults as dead children and all these
Terrors like stabbing my throat
Within all these seasons of years
Of all my life; so sing, so sing,
So sing and say: my heart is right
And too many sleeping so deep they
Shall never awaken!
:: 11-08-2017 ::
Night Terrors
Before the pink of the morning,
When all is dark awaiting,
My mind awakes and travels to
Places I thought I’d forsaken,
It shuffles with its stick, looking under the ashes,
For events so long unremembered,
And I, I’m shaken and waiting,
What does it all mean?
Where is the peace of my Savior,
When I cry after reliving done and undone,
Or is He there, teaching me, purging my soul,
And with that thought, I lie in His arms of forgiving love.
I slumber, I sleep, so deep and oh so long
I feel a force pulling me down, down, something's wrong.
Its dark, as dark as pitch but strangely I still can see,
shadows pass, I'm scared, the faint light calls to me.
I'm being pursued and I know not by who or why.
Always black, oblique surrounds. GET AWAY, I must try.
Feeling the rush of panic, adrenalin keeps me going,
breathing getting quicker, WAKE UP, back to the knowing.
Demons calling out to me, they call through children's eyes.
I resist their cackle, but yet am drawn, knowing its not wise.
Then suddenly my leg is grabbed, I begin to kick and scream,
I'm out of breath, all out of moves, please wake up from this dream.
The die is not cast until you sleep of what your dream will tell.
A friendly dream, or nightmare taking you to the pit of hell.
Amazing unspeakable things the mind can conjure up
Its not until sleep prevails that you drink the bitter cup.
As night befalls you lie in bed, to sleep you do succumb
The talisman, the hooded feind all beckon you as one.
Their craft take you over misty dreams but you are unaware
Then suddenly the hood falls free- Welcome to your nightmare.
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