silver threads of moonlight
coil around my paralysed wrists
chaining my ankles to bedsheets
as my living nightmare awakens
screams crackle through my throat
trapped between cotton threads of a
lavender pillowcase which swallows
sounds faster than they are produced
stars dance behind my eyelids
between muffled rasps of breath
as purpled veins strain against skin
commanding my neck to lift
but my limbs are fickle creatures
renegades of somatic harmony
drenched in concrete which dries faster
when my mind tries to fight back
so when sleep drags me six feet under
drowning my shaky consciousness
and constellations flicker to nothing
one last thought echoes in my ears:
this must be death.
YOU ARE READING
Coffee Culture
PoetryIn which tiny snippets of time are cut and pasted together. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Poetry #30 (29/01/19) © 2019 evethespy. All Rights Reserved.
