Slumber...

Hours pass at midnight in silent secret, actions saved for dark awakenings and nervous needs. Bleeding hands leave a red trail of past shame and unmentioned skeletons. Garbed in black to match thoughts and intentions, to calm these desperate demons that whisper while demand tunnels my nerve to an extent of overloaded constraint and ultimate surrender. spectors bare witness and remind me of nightmarish past remorse in spectacle, held captive, bound by failure and awful reward. I dream of a prison, my gloomy castle, constructed of countelss contrition. Rotting within these walls of my psyche, ghosts to warden and rarely pardon. Escape is elusive. Sleep is quick and unforgiving. The long shadow of tall mistakes.