Purple bruises under my eyes
Indicated my lack of sleep
For days watched the sun set and rise
But still could find no haven in my sheets
but then one winter night frosted my windows
As I crossed my arms across my chest
Chilly winds blew high and low
And I set my head down to rest
The dying fire lit the walls
With grotesque shadows not from this world
I listened to these creatures call
Entranced to see them swirl and twirl
Where I was led I know not of
As they pulled me through some corridor
Made of shadows, their grasp was rough
Till we made it to some cleared out moor
And then these sprites, they began to dance
Wildly as though they might die otherwise
The mysticism of the dark night held their trance
As they circled me and closed my eyes.
In the darkness, I saw my friends
They told me stories, whispered in my ear
Laughing at me with most happiness
Asked to hear my deepest fears
Eyes still closed, I chose to confide
What makes my blood turn to ice
Is to find no one left on my side
But they were gone when I opened my eyes
So in this void
you will find
in the darkness of what
you call your mind
people you never met
and unkempt thoughts
make believe stories
that have been wrought
to fill the gaps in place
lies that have become
the better part of you
filled with an unearthly hum
in the void
you will find
how exactly
you lost your mind.
I wandered in this lonely place
Searching for some way out
Hoping to find a friendly face
But each step filled me with more doubt
Were those shadows ever real?
Had they lured me to this unknown place?
Why had they left me to here to feel
The emptiness of this lonesome space.
I woke to find myself in bed
And in my eyes, rays of sun beam
On my pillow I rested my head
And wondered if it was all a dream
And so,
to the people who never sleep
in their brains the monsters creep
too afraid they are to rest their weary eyes
for in their dreams who will hear their cries?
in drawn out moments of hesitation
the heart seeks yet more reservation
to ward off these mares of night
where whence these feelings of fight or flight
originate to strike some fear
in something they hold near and dear
and so to the people who never sleep
who try to hide a monster’s creep
they begin to lose their sense to feel
what is not- and what is real.