Where nightmares crawl

 

I speak in poetic wonder.

I write my lullaby dreams.

I sift through fairytales

and I sip on ethereal streams,

when I drift seamlessly across

the threshold of night

and let my eyes slip into that

vast field of delight.

 

I speak in songbird serenades.

I swiftly let them celebrate

the ending of the day,

as they roost in my head.

I slowly close my eyes

and I walk on fields

of cloud soft light.

And as I close my eyes

I feel alive.

 

For a second.

 

Then.

 

It happens.

 

The darkness descends

across everything.

The echoing sound of the end

looming in.

The booming drone of a piano

trilling on a key.

A wilting feeling takes over me.

and I’m pulled down.

 

Down.

 

Down.

 

Grabbing the slimy walls

that were my bed

as I am sucked

further down,

deeper into dread.

The endless chasm.

The endless fall

from which there is no climb.

 

Dreams flung against the wall

out of which nightmares crawl.

 

The monolithic bedside cabinet

looms high over me

and I’m at the bottom

of a well of misery.

The dripping of a million tears

echoing around the trilling key’s

discordant screams.

The clock in the sky melts

into a viscous mire

and time floods over me.

 

And I’m watching my own dreams

splashing against the floor

in worthless puddles

and I’m no longer sure

if my mind is aware

or if I’m even here,

or if here is real anymore.

In neon canyons

 

In the neon canyons

where sighs blink

for desperate eyes

in the bewildered

streetlights,

and sex sells

whole new storylines,

full of untold lies.

 

Where inverted angels

walk uninvited

on the other side

 

And those demons

that we run from,

find us, no matter

where we hide.

 

The man walks

head bowed,

as if in prayer,

 

but no god

will hear.

Not one

he wants to hear

anyway.

 

He walks,

to make his confession

to the bartender

and the empty bottles

that leer down at him

when he isn’t looking.

 

“I have seen things

you won’t believe.

Things that now

I cannot unsee.

I was lost in a place of fantasy,

when the room split blood red.

I am the only one that survived.

Barely. Within an inch of my life.

I can hear the screams in my head,

I can hear the screams drop dead.”

 

There were dancers

squirming to the beat,

trippy dance music

controlling their feet.

The room moved,

like insects swarming

on a piece of rotten meat.

Then a countdown

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5...

and as the clock chimed midnight…

 

The lights dropped

And the screams rose.

No one came out alive.

 

I don’t know what happened

in those shadows,

but I felt something close,

I could feel the cold breath,

I froze, cold sweat

clinging to my cloths.

 

In that moment I could only hear

the muffled sound of

my heart trying to escape.

The steady dripping, drumming

of blood coming from all around.

On its lips

the stench of death.

It breathed me deeply in,

like it was savouring the smell,

I could hear it licking its lips,

 

ready to feast

 

but then an uninvited angel

shone through the dark

and kissed a breath

into my soul and vanished

like a wisp of smoke.

And then I was alone outside.

I have no memory.

after the kiss,

just a sense of lightness,

like worry had ceased to exist.”

 

The bartender turns

and grins a snakelike grin

 

“I’m sorry my friend.

You didn't survive,

that was a wish

pulling you

into the afterlife,

now pull up a pew,

we have to talk about

the life you once knew.

Now it says here

you once killed a man...”

Wheels of dread

 

On these winding roads,

the smoke and mirrors

of the universe are

framed

in cold steel fear,

as the rolling

wheels of dread slide

across the

glassy

surface.

 

Something untoward,

a figure

running toward

a cliffside pass,

I’m blinking

thoughts back 

like tears stuck

behind the glasses

covering my eyes.

 

I’m jolted into reality,

or insanity,

As the car veers

across lanes.

These open windows

into a world unsought

are slowing my reactions

to a crawl,

 

Did the figure fall?

Was there a figure at all

or is my mind starting to stall?

 

As I pass "The Crooked Boar"

I feel something more,

something in the darkness

watching as I drive by.

A right. A left.

A swerved collect call 

on our own mental stability,

calling to say it’s all too late.

Your fate was decided once

you left the motorway.

 

The rain streams down

the windscreen.

Wipers smearing

until view is awash

with snakes, scales of time

are hanging and

the lightning casts

a frightful sight. A silhouette

in the blood red moon.

 

This night is endless it seems

like one of those dreams,

nightmares,

where you wake

and are still there

deep in the dream,

in repeat,

only the scares

are more pronounced

the second time

around the track.

I feel the hairs on my neck, tighten

and hang themselves

from the moonlight beams.

 

I’ve seen this same

street sign creaking

in the rain

already

"The Crooked Boar"

appears to the left,

and in my mind, I see

a figure veer to a cliffside pass.

In red moonlight, a reflection

in a puddle of memory,

and I’m stumbling through

these thoughts of glass

as they cut ribbons

from my eyes.

 

On these winding roads

nothing seems real,

I pull over to stretch my legs.

Out of the darkness, a wailed screech,

assailing the senses.

I see a figure, a shape

silhouetted in moonlight glare, those eyes,

reflecting the light in the air, in steel frames,

a photograph moment

the fate in headlights glassy stare.

A creature not of this realm,

and he sees me as I see him,

I run as fast as my legs can take me.

 

All anyone sees is a figure

running

towards

a cliffside pass,

falling to the floor

beside "the crooked boar",

 

Steel framed

glasses, cracked.

Fractures

reflect a pool of blood

like ribbons

in the moonlight

 

A car sits,

empty

but still idling.