Restless dreams, I lie in sweat,
The Banshee sings, of death,
the linen on my bed – a small ocean,
burning my heart, fear emotion…

The images that haunt my dreams,
the feelings burns my heart, it seems,
Doom looms as my head hits the pillows,
a hellish pit that denies peace.

Verses swirling in my head,
of spells to keep the dreams away,
but the horror that created these nightmares,
with hollow eyes look at me from my reflection.

This hell-tortured monster is me.

(c) 2011 allen simpson
I don’t have nightmares before you ask. This poem is a story.

Photo by Allen Simpson and Hanneliese Bredell

Photo redesign by Allen Simpson