demonic dreams
my eyelids are heavy with sleepi desire to slip into my most blissful dreams of solitude
but my dark demons are reaching up from the covers of my bed
[from the cracks of my subconscious mind]
to pull me down under - to the under world
world of forbidden passions, and hidden desires
[light me on fire and smoke me like a bud
play me like a flute, like a fiddle, play upon me!]
their small white cold hands are pulling at me forcefully:
in our subconscious dwellings do our desires make themselves manifest
Poetry by Thomas Perdue
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Editors' choiceWritten on 2012-05-05 at 23:23
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