Your nightmares,
Dark scary places
And bright, sudden flairs-
And lairs
Of broken glass and
Things in your brain-
Perfectly red stains
Of blood on her teeth,
As she laughs.
And his crow's feet
The silent heat
Of him, and you
And you remember the
Cold feel of the gun in your hand-
And- that triggers it,
And your mind races
Like a bullet, faces
Its victim.
YOU ARE READING
Daydreams
Poetry"Maybe all of us are characters in the same story, waiting for the epilogue." Wanderings. All images are original.
