on April 28, 2015 in Poetry

There is paint beneath my fingernails
and scratches on my door
put there whilst I was dreaming
frantic screaming
I had clawed the walls and floor

I am haunted from the corner
where the midnight shadows fall
in my bed I hear his chatter
manic laughter
distant voices in the hall

His are stares and smiles
and cold unblinking eyes
a nightmare oft recurring
most disturbing
and black ill omened skies

He guards the gate to waking
in the corner by the door
to wrest from me while sleeping
daylights keeping
he vows to walk once more

He hates me for his prison
this dream wherein he’s hid
a malice unrelenting
thrice resenting
my life is his not lived

I dare not let him wander
I dare not let him out
for my face he wears when walking
terror stalking
there’s a stranger here about

So he and I will wrestle
at the door and at the gate
as we have done ever
til forever
it is he or I that wakes

Should he lock the door behind him
and take away the key
then he’d become the dreamer
and I’d become the dream.

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