Nightmares

It leeches and bleeds

As I scratch with blunted nails found on top pillow.

They curve into my cheek to my head where nails can’t reach.

The wounded symphony of rust and blood

And red and lead

Tapping on the bones as I try to go to bed

It is testing me, a dream I can not see

As I roll with a grinded grin

And try to sleep again

Mysterious Muse

Wonder

Such a concept that escapes me because I am not a child, far from a child. replaced instead by a sense of dread. The world no longer inspires me. I see no wishes in the dark.

When I grasp a clump of dirt I do not ponder whats it’s for. The tiny beings that live within. Most likely crawling onto my skin. I see it for what it is supposed to be. A patch of dirt, no mystery.

I am an adult, nothing childish within, but if I was to bend with a tiny friend and search the innocence that they see. I think, just a bit, that a part of me might

just

wonder

Still

I remain disinterested in games. The long term commitment of staying the same no matter the situation. I am afraid of change. Yet, I rather put up with it in the hopes that it will be worth it. I risk nothing by sitting here. 6 am and still ashamed, I gained nothing by huddling under the cover.

Escaping the cold that I could easily end. Thinking of you. Wishing for you. Steadily hating myself because I can help but dream of you. 6 am and I refuse to sleep. I refuse to see your face as I dream. It is a game really. To see how long I will pass. 6 am and I am still here.  Eyes wide open and mind full of so many fears. I am so very tired but I refuse to give in. I refuse to play along to a game I know I will not win.
It’s 6 am and I am still awake.
I am still awake.

I dream of stability

“I am surprised you are still here.”

“Why?”

“Because all good dreams die young.”

“…and?”

“Wells it’s been ten years now now…and yet here you are no matter how hard I tried to get you to go away. I wonder what that means.”

“Probably that you will never be rid of me?”

“Yea…I guess so…”

I wonder

“Do you regret it?”

“No, why should I?”

“Because you gave up!”

“No…I didn’t…”

“But you did! Had you listened to me-“

“What? Had I listened to you what!?”

“…We would be happy…a family.”

“No, we wouldn’t. We would be content. A mix of shame and regrets. We would have hated each other in the end”

“But-“

“And you wanna know what the worst part is?”

“…what? What could be worst than being a murderer?”

“That…that right there. We were never be fit to be more than friends. Yet you wished to make something out of what was not meant to be? Why? For such a little thing that we would both abandon. You despise me without reason and yet you scream about what ‘could have happened’ what ‘could have been’. When right now! Yes! Now! You hide behind a smirk. You want to be so woke yet you expect things. Grand things that bring about disorder. All because you felt as though a bundle of cell could bring us closer. “

“BUT OUR DAUGHTER”

“…”

“Or our son. Should have had fighting chance to become one”

“But you don’t want me”

“But…yes, still it would have been worth it since you already let me inside your dress. What a little bit more for both our sakes. Someone around to tie us to the stake. Sure we would burn and we may hate. But it would be worth it over this mistake. “

“So you would rather live in misery?”

“I rather IT live”

My mind hurts

This is a drug. Sculpted by a set of hand cuffs made of plaster.  Not my finest creation, but this is not my finest hour. It sits and bakes in the wake off the addict. Hidden somewhere among the weeds and the trees and the flowers. Only another who suffers could understand it’s power. How it grows and holds. Expanding from the molds which housed it. A plant in the mind of those who know where to look. Where to find such meaningless things in wish filled dreams. Only they can understand. This drug. Sculpted by a set of plasterd handcuffs. This isn’t my finest creation but it only took an hour. I can choose to give it power or I can choose to throw it away. I am the addict who hides. Among the tree and and weeds and thorns. Watching as it expands from the molds I sculpted. I leave meaning in its creations. Define it by wish filled dreams. Only I can understand it. This is a drug.

A/N I can’t sleep again. I can feel the cycle starting. How empty i feel. I am sharing this one ahead of schedule because…well because it makes no sense. And I need to empty my mind right now before everything starts fading again.