My world lands in a cluttered heap
As it twists and turns
Into unrecognisable deformities above my head,
And crashes to the ground.
As it falls,
I catch glimpses of my past and of what used to be,
Sections of me,
Been moulded and shaped beyond recognition.
I am unable to escape from the monsters which did this,
Monsters which were created by own mind,
Figments of my disturbed imagination.
I look down,
As I feel a slight pressure on the palms of my hands.
I find another pair of hands,
Male and supportive.
I look up into the eyes of my partner,
Which hold murky pools of concern
But are strangely beautiful.
And for a moment I am lost in your embrace.
I can see the monsters clawing at the air around us,
I can see the remains of my past, my present, and my potential future slowly, gently, yet with a sense of impending doom,
Floating to the ground and evaporating Into an air thick with tension.
But, unable to move my gaze from your face,
I am numb
Except for the love I hold for you.
Our fingers intertwine.
A weak, frail connection
Which can be broken at any moment,
This small gesture stands untouched and unbreakable
In the midst of suffering and despair.
And as time stays slowed
And the monsters press onwards,
The connection is tested
But we still are not separated.
Because, the gesture was small
Frail, yet strong in the face of defeat.
And this gesture is the only stable thing in sight,
The only thing that these monsters won’t be able to eat
And deposit in whispering trails
Into this graveyard of dreams
In the territory of my nightmares.
The blurred terror
Of my nightmare world
Transcends into a whirlwind,
Different shades of red, orange and black
Spinning around us.
It spins and it spins,
Until nothing is clear
And eventually we ourselves are spinning,
Interlocked in an uncontrollable blizzard,
And we spin closer and closer,
Then into each other,
Blending into one unnatural clump of bodies.
The clump pulsates,
Then begins to dissolve,
My mind is filled with black.
My eyes flicker open.
I see ceiling.
I am laying, sweating, on my back.
I guess I was dreaming.
Because the real nightmares are the ones which don’t come to me in my sleep.