InsomniaTell me the name is for a goddess,Insomnia by jade-pandora
capricious and deadly, who
mocks the afflicted in their dreams.
I might endure more graciously
if only this were a dream. It is
she who tosses fireballs of light
pulsating, flashing bright
and going dim in the blackness
behind these herniated eyes,
to devour while I hear the sustained
pitch of a sonic scream through
the static frequency of night air--
the peel and cry of her harpies
smelling of singed hair and brains--
the fever and sound rips through veins
cauterizing shut the window for sleep,
leaving the frantic staccato
of a heart in flight, as I whisper
Goddess, why spare me the night.
Paint the DreamsEvery night, on the insides of my eyelids,Paint the Dreams by FaeFallen
I paint the Universe with the ink set of imagination
And the charcoal sticks of memory,
Then flip it upside down and the wrong way round
And let it snag into focus-
On my sleeping synapses, the branches of the Inspiration Tree .
In my ivory skull-box of random echoes,
Every melody, every voice, is re-written and rescored,
For a symphony of electricity, crisscrossing nerves ,
And running down, like liquid lightning
Into the ears of the dormant soul.
Here, this is that part of my chaotic desk
Where I re-write physics to suit myself,
Redesign monsters and angels to my own specifications
Until the lines between them are blurred out of recognition.
In this drawer, I keep my nightmares
Under layers of fine, crinkled tissue paper, bound with laughter
And interspersed with the dead bodies of silk butterflies
This rack, here, holds the satin ribbons and velvet strings
Of the slipping, crackling madnesses that only come out when I call
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