#295 (obscure)

giant crows picking away

at the bright side of the moon

floating whales from old tales

jurassic terrors emerging

from the depth of my subconscious

batteries of dread unloading at my thalamus

collapsing synapses in their wake

yet birdsong won’t wake me this time

sinking deeper into the sticky horror

pouring my own nightmare

moan by moan I spin a cocoon of fright

grinding teeth, rigid bones

the taste of trauma on

paralyzed lips

 

© Matthias Geh, 5th June 2018

 

 

 

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