Sleep

It's not so much a peom, as it is creative writing. The lyrics, are not mine, but the paragraph's corresponding with it are.

Copyright Poets of the Fall - Sleep

Hear your heart beat
Beat a frantic pace
And it's not even seven AM

Waking up, with nothing but the familiar low moan at my lips, my body too afraid, too consumed with fear to expel a scream of the tortured soul. The image still burns beneath my eyelids, of your mangled body, covered in a beautiful sheet of crimson

You're feeling the rush
of anguish settling
You cannot help showing them in.

Nothing is left to comfort me, but an empty sob into the cold pillow. My shaking arms, reach out and my trembling hands are clawing for the one, familiar object, the one thing that will take this all away.

Hurry up then
Or you'll fall behind and
They will take control of you

It's useless, as my vision swims with the visions of the dream, visions of the past. I can hear voices shouting, screaming in my head. The sound of chains dragging against the cool, dark, hardwood floor. It's consuming me, engulfing my senses. It's making me let myself go.

And you need to heal
The hurt behind your eyes
Fickle words crowding your mind

As tears escape my eyes, once again my hands are clawing desperately at the sheets, frantically searching for that one object, that will mean the one moment of comfort that could guarantee my sanity for one more night.

So
Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in,
Like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in,
And carry you over to a new morning

One hand brushes against the soft material, and I let out a choked sob from relief. I grab the familiar plush toy, and press it to my chest, burying my nose into its soft fabric, taking in the scent, the feel, as my body relaxes, and my eyes fall shut.

Try as you might
You try to give it up
Seems to be holding on fast

Slowly, the tormenting memories leave my mind, as if a liquid pouring out of my very skin and into the atmosphere. But new memories, new images, crawl into my head. Memories that I wish I had kept for myself forever. Images of his shining face as he held me, kissed me, touched me. I bury myself deeper into the fabric, my mind spinning with fear.

It's hand in your hand
A shadow over your
A beggar for soul in your face

With my eyes still closed, one memory after the next etch themselves into my mind. I can feel his hand slipping into mine, his silhouette casting over my body, almost as if it were a shield, and I tremble at the memories, a moan escaping my lips once again.

Still it don't matter
If you won't listen
If you won't let it follow you

Something in my mind tells me it is not wise to lose myself in the memories, but with the new sense of a false happiness, I let myself go. I'm no longer remembering the memories, I am living in them. I can feel his lips against mine, his voice against my ear, whispering sweet words of salvation.

You just need to heal
Make good all your lies
Move on and don't look behind

And again, like every other night, my body relaxes, my eyes close, and I fall into a deep sleep, remembering. Feeling his touch against my skin, his lips against my own, his voice caressing my pain away, and his image, swimming in my head. I don't look back at the nights events, the tormenting dreams, the reality. At the moment, it's just me and him, together once again.

Day after day
Fickle visions
Messing with your head
Fickle, vicious
Sleeping in your bed
Messing with your head
Fickle visions
Fickle, vicious

And as the slumber takes a hold of me, the plush toy slips out of my grasp and rolls casual to the edge of the bed, waiting in its place, until the next day, the next night, where it will once again heal and kill me.

Sometimes I wonder if the gift was a gift, or a curse, messing with my head as it sits there, waiting to transport me to my past, the memories, where I truly live.