they're not nightmares
anymore
and i should think that would make a difference
but it doesn't
my dreams are a plague
infecting every part of me
every vessel, every *****
every nerve and every cell
every night
                            a Wonka riverboat ride down the rabbit hole into Madness
                                                         ­                                 and mixed metaphors
                                                       ­                   a kaleidoscopic psychic calliope
                                                        ­                              of psychedelic psychosis
i remember when dreams used to comfort
bring relief and restitution
or delightful reminiscence
or strange beauty
but my dreams are now a plague
they exhaust me
all vivid surreal visions
          of mundane interactions
                                                    ­with a world I do not recognize
                                                       ­  that feels uncomfortably
                                                   ­                intimately
                                                      ­              Familiar
waking in those peaceful hours of pre- and post-dawn
that peace is lost on me
lying there, almost paralyzed
i do not remember my dreams
so much as i
Recover from them