Wicked Torment

In an old wooden house every night I sleep,

proclivity for rest is always fleeting

for my subconscious betrays my sensibility;

as is seems the house is alive and breathing

with creaks and bumps I hear every night.

In my bed I can’t determine its location;

is it inside the house or just inside my head?

I try to hone in on the sound as silence now abounds,

there it is; I hear it again, louder and louder it becomes,

my heart races and all of a sudden the sound stops -

Only the sound of my heart pounding remains

as I sit up sweat beads on my forehead appear;

all of a sudden my body is raked with chills and

my body won’t stop shaking as I try to keep still;

spent from exhaustion my body is terribly weak.

As I try to gather my thoughts it becomes clear

these sounds were spurned on by a nightmare;

I figure out now I was just hallucinating, the

sweat was coming from the high fever I had;

from this cruel flu that was driving me mad.

Copyright by NewLife2008