Jolted into semi-consciousness by subconscious creation,
Calcified.
I will not obey me.
Forced to stare at the canvas above as unnerving images unfold;
I know some foreign part of me is the artist.
Sounds grate at the tissue of my ears.
Imagined, uncontrolled.
I would writhe,
Scream
Cover ears
Shut eyes
Shield myself.
I would, but my flesh is stone.
Adrenaline throbs through, and black ice fills my stomach's pit.
Though she is in my head, I see her projected,
Hovering
Over me.
Wisps of ethereal smoke cloak her skeletal figure
And a single, sterile, gleaming dagger protrudes from her sleeve.
White noise invades my veins.
She senses my fear and
Shifts.
My lungs inflate.
The sound stops.
A moment passes, then an inhuman voice seeps into my skull.
And with a steady breath, my awareness is consumed again by the abyss.
YOU ARE READING
Sleep
PoetryA five part poem based on five different aspects and stages of sleep and how it's experienced. Open to any and all criticism x Written at age 17.
