If you lay in this bed,
it’s wit me and my ghosts..
too many dreams boxing with demons
next round, bell ringing
done coping, no pleading
cuts, though no gauze for the bleeding
screams caught in my throat
dry heaves as I’m breathing
guess I’m in this box for a reason
tried thinking outside it
I live with the lights off-
same as the black on the back of my eyelids
hope you aren’t scared of the silence
shhh! conscience ‘be quiet! you lying!”
she doesn’t mind it
I’m sorry, may talk in my sleep-
but I and my ghosts are colliding
no hiding
my air is in a vise getting siphoned
inside this mind of confinement
what’s real, what isn’t..nightmares are timeless
waking is like a fight for survival
but I hope you don’t mind it
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