A Horror Poem

100_2464It is still National Poetry Month so I continue my contribution. How about a poem to give you the shivers?


The dream etches
your pale walls
with horrors, cries
in your head all night
drawing demon
to demon combat,
hangs by limp fingers
flaccid as chicken skin
from the light fixture,
hangs over your head
unseen in deep
rafters of your mind
strangling you
in tangled hair,
its lips rotting back
from ivory teeth,
a face dusty
as a window sill,
dry as light
on a board floor,
crazed as broken
glass across a pillow,
its shriveled mouth
drinking in the cool
draft of your fright –
day dawns, as it does.
You rise from sheets
knotted to the shape
of your grief
for everything
you no longer are.

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