No Choice

The impurity of my nightmares span far beyond anything I’m willing to admit,
I will not send for help, by text, at night…
I’ll just sit,
In bed and think about why the disturbing feels right,
A contradiction to personality that I seem to can’t get.

Maybe my brain sees sleep as a time to explode,
To resurrect the corpses of dead thoughts,
Along the red road,
And give glimpses of demons I’ve already fought.

Maybe me brain fears its own destruction,
Or relapse,
So it gives me consequence as kind of  passive instruction,
Of when reality was a persistent screaming beast in my overly sensitive ears,
It reminds me my fears,
Those that have harmed me over the pass 3 years,
I think it wants me to wake grabbing the cold pillow to my right,
At times beyond night,
Between two and four,
Flailing in darkness, the silent war,
Ugh….I can’t wake…
My roommate…
Because he’ll ask questions in morning,
And I won’t answer,
I guess I can heed the warning,
That there is cancer,
In empty force,
Maybe this is just my brain’s prefered way of discourse,
Because it knows I have no choice but to see,
No choice but to listen.


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