Nightmares linger, it is a fact,
clinging to memory like an acrid disease.
When I was younger, I dreamt I saw a witch in
a local church, now whenever I pass this church,
I am stabbed with the feeling of total fear and
isolation, just for a split moment though.
Like when a mother loses her child in the dairy aisle,
only to find him almost immediately
– a brief sense of horror.

In a sick and perhaps perverse way, I long for this feeling
of total fear, yet wish to rid myself of it at the same time.
Teetering on the edge of a knife, wanting to touch death,
but not allowing it to touch me.
Wanting to squeeze blood from the tormented tears of my youth,
whilst wanting to smother my childish screams once and
for all.

Perhaps one day I shall enter the church,
though I very much doubt it,
for I'd be disappointed to see no witch there,
grimacing at me, like she did that one
dark, lonely and vulnerable night.