The Haunted Bed
In the metapsychology of a dream
So terrifying I can't scream,
Against inner demons I strain.
They reach out from the mattress on which I lie,
Paralyzing me while you die,
And inflict you with agonizing pain.
I hear the thud as you hit the floor next to me.
My fruitless struggle last an eternity,
And I can feel your life wane.
Metaphysical hands squeeze me into the bed.
Supernatural strength suffocates me with dread
While watching you over and over again in vain.
I know it's a dream, but I cannot wake.
Trapped in a horrifyingly helpless state
Somewhere between conciousness and the inane.
In the metapsychology of a dream
So terrifying I can't scream,
Against inner demons I strain.
They reach out from the mattress on which I lie,
Paralyzing me while you die,
And inflict you with agonizing pain.
I hear the thud as you hit the floor next to me.
My fruitless struggle last an eternity,
And I can feel your life wane.
Metaphysical hands squeeze me into the bed.
Supernatural strength suffocates me with dread
While watching you over and over again in vain.
I know it's a dream, but I cannot wake.
Trapped in a horrifyingly helpless state
Somewhere between conciousness and the inane.
1 comment:
The poem says it all: I can see the pain on the dark side of the bed. Thanks for the mention, I rec'd a second comment. Oh, wait, it was you. Thanks, Lynda
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