Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Chiara Dec 2019
The night is dark and full of terrors,
Demons waking in the shadows,
Armed with claws and fletching teeth,
Spreading loneliness and fear.
pitch black god8 May 2019

dark early pre-dawn

body suspended between the-dark ochre earth tones of night,
and the teal pealing notes of warning of an impending morning,
signs aborning, me rising with urgency of the leaden half deaden,
torn from the bed casket to venture into a different kind of twi-lights,
nature demanding both intake and outtake, a restoration of balance

but first a bumbling wobbling, the body as carnival bumper car,
installing soon-to-be-bruising for later examination-exhumation,
lurching from handhold crevices in the walls like crazy cliff climbers,
my balance disturbed, eyes try  tearing apart the sticky glue of night,
my sense of direction keeping me from free falling into green glass
edges of glass tables, barely, and not always, red cuts evidentiary

“my balance disturbed” words fresh formed, and a poem expulsion
required to balance the unjust scales of spirit soul and the body cage,
patch an negotiated agreement between warring cousins, just a
twenty four hour ceasefire to retrieve the wounded and the
corpses unfounded in the small copses of false shelter,
like my ancestors expelled from Spain, making escape to be
strangers in strange lands, or remain hidden in place neath disguises
of clothes of new poems, prayers for old and new gods

this new poem comes quick like a young man making first love,
for the poem has been written by thousands nights of practicing,
so ready for quick retrieving in a smattering of a few minutes,
expulsion expulsion
what a perfect verbiage to capture the night terrors, the differentials,
the procession path between what was and what will be,
when my balance restored and this poem’s completion installation
in the body of my work, as a nail disguised in the works of my body,
entering by command of the pitch black gods
5:29am April 24th
Stark Apr 2019
cold sweat
feet tingling
blood rushing
heart pulsing


fitful, but not fulfilling
shadows prowl through my mind
failed attempts to cast doubt
into the farthest reaches


hairs stand on end
soldiers awaiting a threat not realized
goosebumps appear on the skin--
landmines that have risen from hell
I brace myself for the war

that never comes

as my eyes snap open
awakening from a slumber
that was

just a nightmare
inspired by "when the nightmares started" from While You Were Sleeping
Warren Apr 2019
It’s you I call to in my dreams,
To pull me out from the fear I’ve seen.
The ones that hold me in captured fright,
When slow motion kicks in,
And my screams are no more than wheezing murmurs,
When my thoughts are running faster,
But my motions slow to a crawl,
Drawing out the torture of the moment,
But this time you don’t hear my strangled call for help,
Maybe my will isn’t strong enough to transcend,
From this dream state at this time,
God help me if I have to see out this nightmare,
I focus and force my broken earthy plight across the dream dimension,
Desperate to reach the woken world,
But still you don’t save me,
The nightmare encroaches,
The panic builds within me,
I choke,
There's no sound from me,
Which means you won’t know to wake me,
The impending realisation hits me like final last words,
My frightened whisper rasps and splutters,
I hear an old line in my head -
If you die in a dream then you die in real life...
My panic turns to savage rage and I scream,
I scream in defiance for I won’t be broken here,
I scream in the face of all my fears,
I scream so strong and loud,
That I tear a rip in the fabric separating my dream and reality,
It doesn’t slow my impending fate,
It ebbs closer still and I feel the acrid warmth wash over my face,
Just as I release my last defiant scream,
You reach for me,
Like an anchor reaching through the depths,
Pulling me back,
Shaking me awake from behind,
Everything fades in an instant as you pull me out of my slumbered suicide,
You heard me through the hole I made,
I open my eyes to the safety of familiarity,
Back in my bed,
My safe bed in my own room,
Next to you,
My night saviour,
But then,
As familiar reality surrounds me,
I look back and still see my dream,
For a second,
Just a moment,
My fear has followed me into my reality,
Through the tear I made to save myself,
Both worlds momentarily co existing,
Real fear grips me as I realise in that moment ,
The protection from the woken world has faltered.
Everything stops,
My heart stops,
Time stops,
I stare into the abyss for what feels like an eternity,
Then you speak and your words are like silver light,
And just like that,
Fear is gone,
Are you ok you ask,
Everything is normal again,
I’m fine I say,
Go back to sleep,
It was just a night terror.
Kelsey Brewski Sep 2015
his breath woke me up every night
we lay in bed; no, it wasn't
that his breath smelled of toxins,
but of dandelions and poppies.
his hair smelled like he rolled around in
fields of roses and he was
the single dandelion that begged and
pleaded to fit in.
he would never fit
in but he didn't know that, so
he kept trying and it was
so beautiful to say the least.
underneath his skin, in-between
his veins and his bones are tiny seeds that
i planted with kisses and they
grow with my love, when i wrap my
bony arms around him and
squeeze tightly - it lets him
know that he's not normal, that he's
not right in the head but
i love that. so when he wakes me
in the middle of the night, as
i lie between him and the emptiness of
the night, i think that i'm dying
but the moon light lingers and i
know i am safe with his flower breath
and the weeds growing in-between
us and the roots that grow out
of my heels and strangle the love
picture frames on our off-white
bedroom wall. i stare at those cookie-cutter
pictures and wish i wasn't right
in the head, too, but if we both were
psychotic, he wouldn't be a dandelion.
so i stay awake and watch
his beauty radiate in the darkness of
the night and wish that i
was that beautiful too. but he
tells me that my battle wounds don't
amount to anything to him, that my skin
is a ghost to him. i wish
he saw me for me, but his eyes
see the beauty that he grows.
but several nights he leaves me and
i am cold and i am worthless and
i pray to a god that he will
come back and taunt me because
i cannot stand it when he is
not here between my fragile arms
keeping me warm and safe.
i beg him when he returns to just
stay the night, just one more night,
because i cannot bare to
sleep without the dandelion amidst
all the rose petals. i need
my dandelion to keep me safe
and to be the needle in the
haystack - i need him to be in my
arms because idon'twanttosleepalone.
People rushing to work
Just another ordinary day
Or so it seemed.
The worst imaginable thing happened.
Bang smash  right into the twin towers
Panic rushing around like crazy
Franctic people pushing and shoveling
Screaming  shouting.
People jumping to escape the flames
The smell of death
Feeling of hopelessness.
Firemen  caught trapped in the blaze.
Suddenly the whole block collapses
Gone in a moment.all theses lives.
Never forget the souls of September the 11th
fiachra breac Jun 2018
midnight cries for help go unheeded,
***** little secrets remain unchecked.
regret, misery, disgust -
at what i have done
and who i have become
(who have i become?)
Paris Apr 2018
I’ve never truly been diagnosed
But I have some troubles
Some ability to scare the living **** out of myself with my mind every single night

Can never fully sleep without something happening
Shall it be scratching, moaning, pounding on the walls
Shadows, demons, or just my own self getting me
Maybe voices or images, the thought of disasters
A nightmare, body pains, or just my own mind not wanting me to sleep

Pains in my chest that hurt worse with every beat
Or maybe the sense of a presence looking over me
I haven’t got a clue for the cause of these nighttime fiascos
but it’s something every night
The only source of release is when I turn on my phone to see a text from the person I love
And even so, though it feels like a boundaries around me, I know something is out there waiting for me to turn off the lit screen and be face to face with the  terrors that keep me awake at night
Brokewench Oct 2017
Night lights
Casting light in the shadows
Minimizing the hiding places for monsters and negative thoughts
Providing a false sense of security
As though if I could see the danger coming, I could protect myself from it
Weather it was monsters or hearing that voice inside my head telling me I'm not quite good enough.
Did you protect yourself?
Did you learn how it felt before you dreamed a reality that left you of short of breath on the edge of falling into the abyss?
As though the monster had ****** up all the air in the room and was holding it captive just out of reach
Just far enough where you are not brave enough to walk
Did you ever wake up from the terror thankful for it to be over just to realize as the second passed that the monster still held you in his grips?
Hand pressed over your throat, stifling your screams dragging you back in, as your fingertips bleed from scraping at air, trying to pull away
Waking up, scarce of breath, trembling like the knees of a girl who is fragile and weak, begging for a rush of air
Did his face pressed against yours and his hands caressing your skin vanquish the monster and fill your lungs?
Did he make you feel safe?
As the nights drag on and the night light persists when will enough be enough
When will the darkness envelope me in comfort instead of anxiety
Will it always be a constant battle of needing sleep but not wanting to dream?
Childhood covered in night terrors and sweat.
My Fears took root in the darkness, thriving on my constant thoughts and well wishes.
Soaking up my confidence and using it as a weapon
I am not scared of sleep I am scared of what hides in my mind as I drift off.
What new version of hell could my mind construct
Night lights make waking up less of a mental battle.
Night lights help make me realize that the fear and danger is no match for reality
Night lights help pull me out of the abyss and bring me back to you.
But if I believed that light always conquered dark then wouldn't the dreams have stopped?
Next page