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What Speaks

Updated on July 17, 2016

What Speaks

By Tony DeLorger © 2011

What speaks to me in darkest sleep,

voices like echoes dragging me from blissful oblivion.

They taunt me so, their words hard and demanding,

if only I could understand their intent.

Like waves of garbled sound,

they encroach my peaceful slumber,

images flashing like lightning strikes,

disturbing, relentless.

I toss and turn in my numbing cloud,

trying to escape their affront,

only to be hounded with more determination,

their voices even more desperate, disconcerting.

Why me I ask, what do I have to offer,

powerless in this torture chamber of sleep.

Their pleading so matted not a word is understood,

just their earnest and panicked tones.

Faces pass through my vision,

lost and haunting, vacant stares wanting.

I do not fear them but they disturb my soul,

and I can feel them pulling me, this way and that.

Until the dawn breaks

and light beacons my consciousness,

I am in their control, lost in confusion,

waking to uneasiness and disorder.

I wake unrested and weak,

the passage of darkness lost to a pointless agony.

I wish them gone from my peace,

and let me find my oblivion, once more.

What speaks to me, be gone.


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