16 September 2011

Demons at 3 am

through tiny cracks in window glass,
wrinkles in the sheets, they arrive
lost sleep flops, helpless, belly up
onto the killing floor
scars, old wounds of love's
fatalities, commence their bone-deep ache
silence resounds off walls bled of color, shatters

the relentless pace begins through
shards of battered dreams
bloodshot slitted eyes blink away
advancing horde of phantoms,
imps plant doubt, tug,
dragging heart from home

poor body, weary of the fight,
rails back with a snap
of artificial daylight
banishing demons at 3 am

1 comment:

  1. Ephemeron stardust flashing our souls.

    Words to tell just what happens to our beings.

    Hugs and smiles (^_^)