Tis but a dream I scream I scream
My body weak and weary

I lay in bed with throbbing head
And thoughts dark and dreary

I sing the song, What's wrong? What's wrong?
Am I left forgotten?

This be said, face turn red
Stomach spoiled and rotten

Demons spawn, be gone, be gone
As they take my breath

Be pearly gate or hell as fate
I've come to my death

It soaks you to the bone
It gets in your socks
It gets in your mouth
Your eyes
Your shirt
It's dark
It's cold
It makes the day seem like a waste
But
It isn't all bad

It encourages the starting of fires inside
It encourages closeness
It encourages blankets
Candle-lit power outages
Or the watching of movies
It makes plants grow
It feeds the birds
And, of course,
It makes YOU happy

Brian Patrick

Plodding, trudging, slogging through the reeds
Praying for death or at the very least – rescue
Sweat and muck mingle as one
Sliding down my face and pouring over my body

Why me? I have no repair
Looking behind; not a human in sight
The arrows fly by whizzing in the dark
Into the mud I go – fearful

The light in the distance beckons
My limbs giving way to the weight
The rope catches my  neck and tightens
Into the Chart House dragged to no avail

My captors start the endless mindless dance
I am at the beginning of my long goodbye
Dare I give them the dark secret they desire
Never, never …
… the blood trickles down my ***** neck.

Blackest night
I awaken breathless
No puddle of light
Only darkness
As the voices swirl around my feeble mind
“No more! No more!”
Screaming at the top of my lungs
He whispers back
They all whisper back
Whispers of an abhorrent kin
Writhe in mercurial rhythms
Claw at my frail skin
A liquid most sanguine pouring out from ancient scars
When will it all end?
Their faces, their faces!
The apparitions, the hallucinations
No eyes, no pity
I am transfixed and horrified
Cackling in my misery and despair
Mass hysteria catches in my throat
Words fail me
Never escape these four cushioned walls
I finally realize
I’m never going home