Sickness in the Sheets

There's sickness in the sheets,
Writing on the wall.
Blood pounding in my ears,
Water pouring through the hall.
Record has a skipping track,
Tissues scattered on the floor.
Swimming in pools of cold sweat,
There's someone at the door.
Hallucinations running through my fingers,
Pills drifting through my mind.
Half-asleep invalid charging forth,
Leaving sanity behind.
Buzzed on whatever keeps it away,
Sleepless nights are all I know.
Clawing at the pillowcase,
Demons hiding down below.

Author's Note

Constructive criticism is appreciated

Reviews

[N.B.]

Amazing piece. I really like the irony in
"Hallucinations running through my fingers,
Pills drifting through my mind."
Very well written. I would love to read more of your work.