Forbidden Nightmares

Late when the moon is high,
and my mind is at ease…..
The eyes of my soul peer deep,
far into the pits of fear.

Sunken deep into my bed of silk,
under the light of the high night’s sun…
does the sweat form on my brow,
as within my spirit a war does rage.

I fight those things that all men fear,
within an erethreal plane with blades of ice.
Those things that make the heart stop quick,
and making our breathing labored deep.

The thing with eyes that taps your window,
or grabs your arm when you reach for the light.
That which puts the breath on your neck,
and wakes you late at night…

Sheer terror as I grip it by it’s necks,
and try to choke the life from it’s form.
All the time I scream silently,
as blood flows from my lips.

The demon laughs an alarm bell shrill,
and chills they flood my flesh.
Squeeze no more as I start to kick,
and my bones would turn to dust.

Those around me start to gag,
their chests begin to heave.
Burst forth their sinew and tissue red,
to the floors their corpses fall.

Fight no more as I am done,
it’s blades have reaches my heart.
My vision dims and down I slide,
the razor through my core.

Panicked I wake from deeply sleep,
one piece I am, through demon wins.
I search the room for enemy hid,
for fear I will some greet again.

By Azurael

Enjoys: Razor blades Cat 'o' Nines Roses Poetry Dispair Self-Destruction