Sleep

Bound by rope
from shoulders to toes
not a space revealed
between each stiff wrapped curl

White cloth
stuffed inside
my mouth duct taped
only muffled sounds

No escaping
anxiety is here
breathing is painful
eyes afraid to see

What could possibly be
waiting in the dark
behind my eyes
the terror of my pillow

Tornadoes and rapists
drowning and stabbing
the stealing of souls
All waiting

No way to control it
or make it less real
suddenly awakened
to a deep cold chill

Bring me to consciousness
bring me to reality
bring me to my love
sleeping beside me

To the safety of the room
to my sweat soaked clothes
to my wet teary face
to the arms of my guardian

Constantly comforting

Author's Note

Henry Fuseli’s; The Nightmare 1781