My recurring dreams typically involve myself running in slow motion
being chased by butterflies
their wingspan as wide as the atlas mom stores on top of filing cabinets
on the section labeled, “General References”.
Those humongous creatures with their sinister looks
protruding eyes as if breathing a life of their own,
their wings containing poison powder
a speck proven to be fatal.

Sometimes my dreams involve myself hanged upside down
being pecked to death by crows
those hungry devils feasting over my flesh
my innards slipping into their mouth like spaghetti
some of them even sharing a strand like that classic scene
in Lady and the *****
never in my life have I seen such a lovely spectacle
caressing feathers, rubbing beaks, sharing warmth
So lovely I could have written a fairy tale out of it
except that, of course, they’re crows.

I have deactivated my nocturnal juices
allowing every monster under the bed to trespass my innermost thoughts
Clawing their way out of the depths to take form
in all sizes and shapes
screeching for attention, strangling, suffocating,
“My body is not yours to own”, I protested.
Led me to the edge of the cliff, those devils
Pushed me into the abyss, nothing to hold on to
called out for help, somebody save me.

Woke up screaming, rushed to the kitchen
emptied the bottle of melatonin
those **** pills, minions of menace.
I don’t want to sleep anymore.
Keep me awake. Keep me awake.