My thoughts stab me to sleep.
I ask all the Gods to intervene.
My dreams as strange, and haunting, as bat filled caves;
Red-eyed, blood thirsty, upside-downs.
I try in vain, ideas I conjure in my waking fogginess;
imagine the pairs of animals climbing Noah’s ark,
there go the giraffes, there go the moths..
The unicorns, the unicorns were left behind. Forgotten.
If I could swat my sadness,
the relentless fly, nosily buzzing in the background of my
life, torturous.
If I could fold and refold it, pages upon pages of dog-eared
brutalities roaring in my ear.
Here, I say to the night, swallow this if you can
Let your heavy cloak of darkness cover this
And right under the watchful gaze of the pompous full moon,
the night declined,
ashamed.
The earth will no burry it, the sky will not veil it, the
seas will not drown it.
My ferocious anger, my battering despair, growing, sharp, claw-like, venomous thorns on my skin.
