Dreams

Dreams of mad and bloody violence
rend my sleep
force me toward the light of noon
despite all my hesitation.
Better now than then
when sleep tormented sleep
refused me any refuge.

Dreams II

I woke this morning
from another nasty dream

I was on trial
for all the dead
those lovely women

I did not kill


people came
from all around
just to see me


hang

Dreams III

I walked the institution halls
sad corridors of dream

crying stifled tears.

Many people lay upon their beds

people who were dying.

I stepped into an Otis
someone else came running
but they were far away.
The door closed

the floor moved

before I found the buttons

which were two and broken.

It settled, rather oddly at the bottom
landing corner first

a bit uneven

to find the door would not now open.

Then again, it began to move.
Up? Down? I could not tell -

if down, then it dropped from sight;
if up, then when it slowed;

I clawed, rising, stomach turning,

plastered to the ceiling.

the church bell rang.



Two a.m.


a door slams in the darkness
same door slams

three times

it's now after two a.m.
some unseen hand
behind each angry
sounding sound
but is it really angry
or is it just the darkness
or the paranoia
filtering the sound
to interpret from it

anger

Two Twenty a.m.

Was that a scream?
No. Someone's power steering.
Yet I can feel it in the dark.
Someone now is strangling.
Angry hands are killing.