Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2018
I lie in bed sick
but it is not disease that
is crawling under my skin.

A million mouths speaking
in monotone -

(how funny it is their lips are
a thin line.)

sleep -
(it rhymes with sheep!)

One more hour
One more night
One more howl into the abyss
(does it howl back?)

The dead silence of the night
it knows my mind - too well -
too much -
like a hammer knows  

Where to land
to strike a nail
like a surgeon knows
not to slash an artery
with a tremor of the hand.

I pull down the darkness
and pray for it to take me,
swallow me whole,
"Take me anywhere,
anywhere but here."

A million mouths hissing
in unison:

(how strange it is they have snakes for tongues)

(it rhymes with weep!)

One more hour
One more night
One more scream into the void
(does it scream back?)

I lie in bed sick
but tonight I shall dream
of voices ripping me apart.
April 2014
Written by
Elicia Hurst
Please log in to view and add comments on poems