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Thursday, October 8, 2015

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