06 April, 2012

The Nightmare

lay putrefying on my pillow.  

I woke up
in a breathless hurry,
this heart weaving beats
in a crazed drunken stitch.
My eyes screamed
at replays of 
The Dream
stretched taught
against a canvas of terror.
Caught between fiction 
and fear, 
I wretchedly thirsted
for reality 
to get more real.
A binding silence
stitched my limbs to
my heavy sides
fetid fingers scratched
at my will. 
The sheets were drenched in salt,
a fever of sweat and tears.

I lifted a hand - rag puppet limp
and in a voice splintered by fear,
called out, "Name".
You walked in,
my Dandelion wish
I blew you into reality
and watched you
slowly sift through 
those threads of cacophony
cocooning me
into comfort.

Cross posted here


  1. You use the word 'fetid' often.

    1. It's cacophony I'm worried about.

  2. "It was just a dream".

    1. Why the quotes? I don't know why I didn't title it The (K)nightmare.

    2. (K)nightmare? Oh stop it, you.

      Hold on. I hope I didn't read the compliment wrong. I am always afraid of that happening.

      The quotes are meant to convey the impression that this particular line is being said aloud and has not just been written down.

      PS - You make me realise I will never understand poems.

    3. You read it right :)

      PS: Then I've failed. So much for my poetic prowess.

  3. I like the header on your blog. More so because you chose Alvy, crazy though he might be.



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