Of brutal nights, in the ills of darkness…Amid these harrowing times, sleep is no longer a sanctuary of rest and the subconscious mind a battlefield of venting and disruptions of the mind. Inner calm and balanced perspective often come at a cost of pills and alcohol, wildly attempting to stem the flow of outrageous imaginations and dreams far from the esoteric haze of slumber’s lee side aspirations. Hope you enjoyed the mood of this short work.
Amid the brutal night where shadows
plunge to cavernous bleak,
and lamenting spawn from soul’s replete
are beckoned to the ills of darkness,
where sleep lives not in a plush, diaphanous dream,
as dreams live beyond the reaping
of angel wishes and idol pleasantries,
more spiny thistles and the briar
fantasies in bloody conflict,
sweated turns and thrashing addictions
to the feathered fright of expectation,
sweeping reality’s calamitous veils aside,
to reveal the harrowing light-less peaks
of terror’s elite custodians,
sabre-drawn and contrite
from all the death they by hand
and appetite beseeched.
Tony DeLorger © 2021
For more works by Tony DeLorger see his Author page on The Creative Exiles
You can also enjoy more works by Tony on All Poetry.