marți, 5 noiembrie 2013

Nighttime gore

it won't stop,it just won't stop,
all the oozing fear,all the darkness
fracturing my mental skeleton,
all the gore that fuels my nightmares

my sleep is plagued
by flaunting pustules and seeping wounds
that display an array
of blood-red meat and daylight cringing

I see myself as if in a mirror,
doused in fluorescent lighting that's dripping
over stripped bare skin,
as real as this moment we're sharing

a moment's flash,then I decompose
into a burlesque picture of all
the vile fluids you could conjure
while drunk on poison ivy juice

morning unfolds,sheets are covered,
vision ignites above closed eyes-
if reality reveals this to be a phantasm,
then why are my hands shaking like shackles?

a decaying aftertaste follows
my footsteps and spoils my hours
and degrades my mental sandcastle
through vapid words that make no sense

sleep,once my sole escape,
has now become a dying cage

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