Nightmares

Unspeakable things mumbled through trembling lips
As your heart beats a terrified, mournful rhythm
Fast, doubling, then slowing, then doubling again
Threatening to burst from your chest.
And why do you sweat in the cold?
Numerous saline balls swell and fester on your skin.
Chilling, merging, then scurrying out of sight
Have they come for you?
You walked in your wake into their dark land of sleep
You are on their ground now
And they seek to keep you there.

Demons from your past you have forgotten
“What sort of man forgets his own children?”
What silky smooth sweatless brows glistening
Beneath rich black wavy hair. They tug at you left and right,
Weeping through crossed-eyes, over calloused cheeks and down Restless forked tongues and dripping fangs while their horrid talons Anchor your stained, neatly pressed suit.

Then there are those you dare not forget.
“What sort of man forgets to worship?”
And now in the shadow of their collapsing marble altars
Upon you. Scream. Scream now. You think.
But there is no voice and there is no sound
Because there is no air.

Your eyes flash open as you awake. Gasping.
Cast by lightning, damp with dew
In the wilderness of retribution.
Disoriented by the feverish irony of wet and hot.
It appears they are giving you one more day to live
In search of ever-elusive serenity.
But night will come at the end.