Cleanse me from
the dust of
the night, and
the apocalyptic
visions of my
slumber.
Fish guts, porn, or
insomnia may have
conjured these rotting
skin nightmares,
these mosquitoes from
hell.
I struggled to wake up,
but couldn't, and finally,
while I was flying in
a gray land of desolation,
and killers,
of nighthawks and harpies.
I soared through a
hazy wasteland, and arrived
safely back home
in my serene, August Sabbath.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 3rd, 2024 18:15
- Comment from author about the poem: Here is a link to my recently published limited edition book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories. https://booksie.chainletter.io/i/thomaswcase888
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 56
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments4
Bad dreams, too much to drink, or wrong drugs often lead to this feeling but I fancy that this was something else. Powerful words Thomas.
Thank you so much.
Strong words Thomas.
Andy
Thank you.
Good write T.
Thanks.
That's a ride and a half dear Thomas, superbly done my friend. 🌹
Thank you so much, sweet Teddy.
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