Having the constant dreams and nightmares seem to haunt me every night and sometimes even at midday when I take my nap which made me write this account of one such dream.

Macabre of Night

Oh silence of night why doth thee abide me no grace,
Whence tranquility of sleep doth withdraw to a grave,
Then in the once hallowed peace of slumbers depth,
Shrouded within the labyrinth of a distraught mind,
Macabre doth lurk, in the midst of its fiendish taint,

Now I dream in apprehension of the blood stained knife,
With gruesome apparitions distorting the night,
Tremble as a mocking hangmans noose stretches taut,
Then running, screaming, fleeing the devilish fiend,
Thence plummeting down, towards the sod of earth,

Ferociousness of limbs now in a frenzied affray,
Lash out at the air, or anything, with eyelids closed tight,
Whence bed doth move, thence nightlight would take wing,
The furniture therein becomes my sleepwalkers maze,
As I fight of a foe not within dwellings grasp,

I stumble and grope howl, wherein doth I dwell,
As ligaments do ach and a drowsy numbness pains,
When soft arms embrace me, honey, reawaken thy soul,
Return to the living; consume spiritual waters of peace,
For twas the water of Lethean, thee hath drained

Barry Pankhurst



Note:
Lethean:
Adjective, literary,
Causing forgetfulness and oblivion