Red lights flashing in my mind's eye
I can't see
Whispers in the dark
Creatures trying to claw at me
Here in the night
Fighting the pain
Feeling the strain
Fractured thoughts form
Splintering into glistening pieces
I'm awake
Sleep is for the weak
The nightmares fade
as my eyes adjust
Just one night...
One peaceful night...
I pray to Demeter
Christ
Dionysus
A deity who'll listen to my plight
Maybe it's not only my mind
Maybe it's the world
the Universe

"He met my eyes with his penetrating gaze. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. The temperature in the room spiked into the tropical range. My heart pounded in my chest like a ritual drum, and my knees threatened to buckle. I'd never seen such a gorgeous male. My logical mind engaged in a futile attempt to regain my attention...

It's too soon
I'm so tired
leave me be.
its too late
I'm exausted
let me sleep
now I can't
sleep
I'm so tired
but I can't
sleep
I'm staring
at the wall
willing the
sleep to
come but
stuck on
this side
of that wall
on this side
without
dreams and a
nice soft
oblivion to
fall into
sleep
I'm so tired

Raevynn
February 8, 2002

Just occasionally, when one has wandered into a certain section of Waterstone's, one wonders what it must be like to be the sort of author who writes about hellish demons, throat-gouging werewolves, maggots emerging from corpses' nostrils and vampire bloodbaths. Darren O'Shaughnessy could tell you all about it.

Several weeks had elapsed since the conversation in Reginald Clarke's studio. The spring was now well advanced and had sprinkled the meadows with flowers, and the bookshelves of the reviewers with fiction. The latter Ernest turned to good account, but from the flowers no poem blossomed forth.