Eigengrau

PART 1: A clause to dwell upon

Lately, I’ve been visited regularly by nightmares.

When I was little, I would wonder where the word, “nightmare” comes from.

Black horses galloping under purple skies, lightning and thunder struck.

They know no mould. They are clever daughters unfurling from my womb of fear, coiled around my neck. Honesty, fear and guilt. The thieves of sleep.

PART 2: The Seven Inch Poem

The font curls to fit
The arrowhead precision of these rulers
Monarchy of measurement
Reigning in the kingdom come of
Making space and depending
On the bridles of time
To harness an energy
To weave dreams laced with lucidity
Terminating in nightmares
Always, always.

Sorrow and horror, dear heart.
Learn to cope, dear heart.
Your brainchild isn’t yours anymore.
She has grown enough to think for herself
She needs you no more.

My throat, my lungs.
The umbilical cord that birthed the
Idea of a mind,
Mother heart, the Origin of Veins,
Draining the love of used-upness.
Pools of sorrow left dripping onto
Her scarlet feet.
Where are you taking me, child?
She asks
I pray at the temple
At the time of the twilit half sun,
Mother, I pray for wings
I pray, for a strong enough gush of wind,
To carry her sorrow away.

PART 3: The pretentious conclusion

I cannot for the life of me, have courage to pursue the ends of these trails.

I have tread Honesty, she takes me further into the thick woods under whose branches I lost many a fleeting thought. truth.

I cannot tread the cathedrals of Fear, I cannot have roses bloom at my feet under the din of bright search lights, I cannot bear the whispers of his feet behind shadowous pillars.

I cannot venture through the tall grass covering the daffodils of memory. I cannot pursue Guilt without finding myself hanging on a weeping willow branch.

I cannot sleep, either. Did I say?//eigengrau.

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P.S. Honey, I finally found a way to write/right it.