For Annik
Every once in awhile I feel the need to update, but then realize so much has occurred since the last time I refreshed this obligatory rant box that I wouldn't be able to clearly convey or give proper justice to what meaning these new things hold in my life. Either that's stopping me or there are a few people on here that I'd prefer to keep unaware and besides that, I'd be clueless as to where to start. Then I realize if I hadn't written the procrastination of explanations a few sentences ago, I would be one sentence closer to explaining my life. And if I hadn't written that sentence right now I would be two sentences closer. Now three. You get the point, or maybe you don't. It doesn't much matter.
Life. Life. Life. I'm making less sense.
I'm making no sense.
Who ever liked sense anyway?
Sleep Paralysis
The night hag hovers
Above, gaseous and transparent,
Displacing the image behind
What I see isn’t “real.”
The feeling is real.
The fear is real.
Fiction is real,
If you believe.
He’ll never leave,
If the world in your mind,
Is their haven to hide.
Incorporeal and hidden
Is air into water,
Bubbles, tingling as my body
Goes numb, Spirits pressing,
Pressing, pulsing, pushing
My soul to the ground.
I sleep.
I am awake.
As it freezes my legs and
Sits on my chest,
I drift into spirit world
Low, raspy voices
Taunt, tease, and tear at me.
In ancient languages,
Mocking my fear.
Eyes clearly open, but
Dreaming, observing
Every detail of the lifelike home they place me in.
My own.
Trapped by my own will,
The creature invades,
My body, my home, my mind.
Footsteps run in hallway
Boundaries, but
No one is there.
No one is there.
Neither am I, though
Limbs still struggle
To break free. It’s
All they know apart from me.
I am gone.
I am everywhere.
The force, urging me back
Is not mine, but
A ghost of me,
Still enveloped
in the cushions.
And I sit up.
My eyelids open,
A second pair wakes for
A second time to see
Reality is fiction,
Fiction, reality.
Life. Life. Life. I'm making less sense.
I'm making no sense.
Who ever liked sense anyway?
Sleep Paralysis
The night hag hovers
Above, gaseous and transparent,
Displacing the image behind
What I see isn’t “real.”
The feeling is real.
The fear is real.
Fiction is real,
If you believe.
He’ll never leave,
If the world in your mind,
Is their haven to hide.
Incorporeal and hidden
Is air into water,
Bubbles, tingling as my body
Goes numb, Spirits pressing,
Pressing, pulsing, pushing
My soul to the ground.
I sleep.
I am awake.
As it freezes my legs and
Sits on my chest,
I drift into spirit world
Low, raspy voices
Taunt, tease, and tear at me.
In ancient languages,
Mocking my fear.
Eyes clearly open, but
Dreaming, observing
Every detail of the lifelike home they place me in.
My own.
Trapped by my own will,
The creature invades,
My body, my home, my mind.
Footsteps run in hallway
Boundaries, but
No one is there.
No one is there.
Neither am I, though
Limbs still struggle
To break free. It’s
All they know apart from me.
I am gone.
I am everywhere.
The force, urging me back
Is not mine, but
A ghost of me,
Still enveloped
in the cushions.
And I sit up.
My eyelids open,
A second pair wakes for
A second time to see
Reality is fiction,
Fiction, reality.