The Nightmares

A sense of loss - left tossing, turning
in his weary mind. The spell of sleep
had drifted into yet more dreamless nights.
The light of dawn was always far away.

As memories of brighter days impinged
upon his chosen consciousness.
Feelings gathered in his loneliness.
Emotions filled with violent power
stormed away the sleep that he so needed.

It was as if the seeds he'd planted
turned around to grow into his soul.
He'd never dared get mad at her
for leaving him in need. No - macho
was the man that he believed
himself to be.

Drifting in the silent spaces,
he couldn't get a grip on all
the great unhappiness he felt.
Too deep, the pain.
Too great, the blame
for all his misery.

A destructive lack of meaning stole
into the flesh he held. From base
to high and back again, he never
dared to face the in between.
Unfathomed depths of emptiness
were all that he could dream.

The field conceived beneath despair
was threatening his known reality.
It opened into everywhere, where
nothing that he'd felt of real survived.
The core of life replaced by constant toxins.
Much more than any human shell
could hold in life or love or hope.

Giving up, he dwelled within
the deep depression that his life
had been. Within the starry skies,
he called her name. Yet still,
there was no answer. Just then,
the thought of greater gain began to melt
as all he used to hold most holy
bled away from him.

A sense of loss - left tossing, turning
in his weary mind. The spell of sleep
had drifted into yet more dreamless nights.
The light of dawn was always far away.
He'd lost his soul. Somewhere along the line,
he chosen just to sell it to the highest bidder.
His bitterness could not be swept away.

Vagrantly, the images expanded.
Softly stealing all that he commanded.
Savage power, uncontrolled
by nuances held only by the soul.
Emotions swept him up, then left him dry.
The roller coaster rides he used to love
were sickening.

A sense of loss - too great to be denied.
Sitting by the fireside alone.
Listening to all the silent tomes
of lies that he had written. Knowing,
deep inside, that he aspired to a power
still forbidden mortal mind.

Blessed, the nights (so long ago - could
that mandmade calendar be right?)
he'd lain within her arms.
Feeling the delight of all her charms.
Now nevermore was all that he had left.
Attempting to ingest his death,
the nightmares of his chosen life
went on....

? Michaelette ?

5/25/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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