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Amnesia “It’s A Dream”

good morning or night
cannot really be sure
as my mind’s out of sight
throat tight
and eyes sore
no easy feat keeping abreast of the time
with the best of me left on the cutting room floor

for three whole days straight
have evaded my fate
and all the while i’m sleep deprived
the sandman starts to gain
won’t be denied once my eyes start to dry
isn’t looking to earn a handshake
need not sign dotted line to deal break

it may be deemed salient
to dig in with valiance
alas, one tends to drop off
on first sight of his galleon
there soon comes a point
when each last hinge joint aches
and i’m no longer sure anymore that i’m even awake

it is then he rears up
gears up and goes straight on the take
i could fight him of course
but for all vital force
it’s like trying to harness the wildest dark horse

thoroughbred he may be
but his true pedigree
is in snuffing out every last light i perceive
in no time I’m eclipsed in dark shadow
it is then that his eyes start to narrow
as his smile dies
he fires up the harrow

this harvester of sorrow knows not cultivation
such isn’t its sole motivation
as it cleaves through the crops
raping each seed it passes
its yield reeks of moist mutilation

i could sleep when i’m dead
but he’ll speed up the process
should i try to decline his hypnosis
the blind lead the blind and his hollows are eyeless
his one cruel intention to
hang out and dry me
hear my weary plea
proceed to blatantly defy me

denying freewill any choice in the matter
behind the black cloak is a far blacker dagger
one which stabs deep through mere autosuggestion
requesting the answer to obvious question

what’s a quick forty winks
it could aid with the sync
shape me up for round two
as i bid to push through
shatter brink

second stab
this time deeper
this ungodly creeper
has begun to resemble the grimmest of reapers
as muscle diverges
his coldest steel purges
the light from behind my tired peepers

opposition is lost to each of its urges in turn
my mouth is dry bones
and my retinas burn
as they start to recline
now bereft of saline
bulldozed back in my brain
by his drill of disdain
mining deep as he taps out each vein
makes it weep and then taps it again

i turn to discern his lickspittles conferring

one more stab
what say you
hmm… don’t mind if i do
oh look, i just started a geyser
who knew
shall we see how the other half lives
a sore subject perhaps
but really what gives

clear and present the danger
but wait, it gets stranger
should he wish to take me in
break me in
dance beneath my pale skin
then the deepest of sleeps is win-win
i would wager
see, i strive for the pain
feel alive when i’m slain
my lips taught to writhe
yet never complain
now i live for extremes
every cold sweat and scream
so you see
it all leads to sweet dreams

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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