Demon Dreams

Demon Dreams

The midnight sun hangs, teasingly,
whispering: “you're not asleep, but you can't wake up.”
My eyes are shut, but I can see endless nights
and blistering days. Outside, all is bright, so bright:
raspberry sun against a chocolate sky, the grass chartreuse
while giant butterflies, electric, pink and blue fly
in circles.

It all seems like nonsense, only I know where I am, and I plead
to wake up, but seemingly can't, and silent screams
only make the jade devil dance. He is lying
beside me, eyes closed, seeing, mouth closed, snickering,
threatening to move at a magnetic moment, seize the victory.
For now he just waits, waits.

I cry, but no tears flow, and I scream “No” in my heave head
as I feel him on top of me once again. Of God no.
Not again. I push back, but there are too many rocks
in my path. I shudder, quietly, accept defeat,
I feel my heart burn tears into my sizzling skin.
Resist. Resist, But my thoughts are no longer my own
and I reply. No. Just relinquish, and all I will have to bear
is your scar. Resist. Resist. Relinquish.

The dark devil smiles. He remains asleep, but he is always present,
always amongst us all. Were we so foolish as to think
he could be destroyed? He is the chip on our shoulders,
the sarcastic response to a liquid lover, the silence
we carry when we watch as the world around us hurts,
or when we are passively respond, indifferent.
Yes you. You too. You too. No one leaves unscathed.

Somewhere between this sleep, between this awakening,
I hear you breathing, that custard breath that used to rest
beside me, feeling warmth on my neck,
but no one;s there. No one's there.

I resist once more, pull towards the light, out of this nightmare,
towards wakening, awakening, but there I am alone
trapped, trapped in this dream of icicle merry-go-rounds
spinning. Spinning. Spinning.