It bangs on the windows
and rattles down the stairs
It roils and it boils
and it always comes prepared

In the rain it lingers
a grin of teeth and tongue
It bides its life in corners
where sunlight never comes.

I can see its shadow,
a thin, translucent edge
Discordant voices singing
a hymn that echoes on.

Nightmare won’t you leave me?
My life is worn and thin
An anxious, guilty patchwork
I’ve lost the needle in.

All rights reserved – Alicia Fitton 2016

If you liked Nightmare, read Word Shimmy