Friday, October 25, 2013

PTSD Nightmares

Madness knows me well 
& calls to me by name at night, 
When black velvet encroaches upon 
the lily white of me & rakes 
spindle-thorn fingers through 
my tangled hair - 
   matted with sweat from thrashing in my sleep, 

The salted drops of fear trace
lines through the remainder of my 
clown paint & soak the cotton 
pink of my night clothes
that cling to my skeleton, 

I am covered in the filth of memories - 
the ones that caused me to be 
this devastatingly sick inside, 

They have rammed their fists into my 
rib-bones with every flashback that is
played, facinorously, in my dreams - 
warping them with malevolent heat & 
melting my nerves to nothing more than 
a shrill scream resonating in the dark,

I would escape this fear 
if I could, 
But there is nothing that can 
save me from the repugnant 
stench of my own inner torment
as it burrows beneath my veins 
and drips from my skin-holes 
at night, 

For that is the worst and truest fear - 
the kind from which you cannot escape... 


  1. an in depth look at something not everyone has knowledge of... great post...

  2. Wow that was horrifying and so true. That felt personal - Well done.

  3. inner torments..........vividly expressed

  4. inner torments - worst and truest fear... and I agree that we cannot escape from them.. hauntingly beautiful.

  5. the 'filth of memories' is a very powerful line..terrifying and yet unflinching in the way it is written..

  6. A poem written from the inside out - so vividly real and painful. Well done.

  7. So personal & honest ... and hopefully cathartic. Writing & sharing is healing. Smiles :)

  8. This is visceral and honest. Your imagery is compelling, refusing to loose its grip on the reader. A very good write.