"There are these terrors, and it's like, it feels like as if somebody is gripping my...are these terrors, and it's like, it feels like as if somebody is gripping my throat...not like tremors, worse than tremors, there are these terrors...at night, there are...not like tremors, these are worse than tremors, there are these terrors, and it's like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing...and like as if somebody was grip-"
~*~
Falling asleep...
A faint dream
In an elevator scene
An exploration
A decrepit room
And finally,
A music box song
That seeped
Onto reality...
Turning into
Static and wails;
Hell's personal melody
Roaring madly
Past my ears
And the nightmare began.
Jolted into limbo
The familiar room
Materialising in front
Of my tired eyes,
But what the hell...?
I cannot sleep,
I cannot wake up,
And I can't move...
I can't move.
God help me,
I fucking cannot move-!
An invisible force
Pressing down on me,
Sent crawling chills
Down my skin
With every attempt
Of futile movement,
Dinning noise
Painfully screeching
Against my ears,
A beast has
Taken control of me
And I don't know
What to do anymore.
Heartbeat panicking
And mind in a frenzy,
I tried to be calm,
To be stupidly rational
With instructions
That came out
Of a 911 operator's
Mollifying mouth...
Okay, think this out!
You can do this.
Wiggle your toes.
A hallux, a minimus,
Just try it, okay?
There, good!
It's working now...
Just try to move,
An arm, a leg,
A muscle, anything
At all, and then
Wait for it to spread
Across your body...
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
It doesn't work.
I'm stuck.
I cannot break away
From the demon
That pins me
Within its claws
Rendering me
Immobile,
And screams
Triumphantly loud
In banshee roars
Deafening me
Of common sense.
I'm. Fucking. Trapped.
So what now?
Helpless as I'm
Paralysed, frozen
In a foetal position
Half conscious,
Half unconscious
Lying in my bed,
Unable to move
Or shout for help,
I give up
I'm reduced to
Waiting for it
To simply end;
Waiting for the
Monster to be sick
Of such games,
Waiting for reality
To take me back
And wake me up,
Waiting anxiously
For that final
Sweet release...
But will it even come?
~*~
"...Sometimes I see flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying and...it's always...and I can't...I can't ever wake up."
YOU ARE READING
Oneirology
Poetry♦♦♦ Oneirology: the study of dreams. Dreary reality intertwined with nuances of dreamy phantasm; for when my quill is spitting iridescent rainbow mirages instead of murky ink puddles. ♦♦♦
