Hangs upside down in the dragon's dungeon,
Pregnant with stingrays.
The Malatroon grins,
Dissecting the knees of adolescents.
The fan spins faster.
Liquid flicks from the blades.
She stands, mouth open,
Screaming next to a waterfall,
The red froth screaming.
Her syllables have breasts.
My groping hands
Recoil from a pair of fire hydrants.
The spiderwebs have muffled my mouth.
Pounded by chocolate eclairs.
Is not quite feasible.
In the staccato needle room,
Alcoholic geckos working overtime,
Shedding the statistics of war.
The TV munching spiders in the corner.
Waking, I find my wings
Clipped to a nub of nothing.
My feet have no claws.
The birds still speak
But their words are lost in translation.
Colors are lost to my nostrils.
The clouded fabrics
Are bereft of electricity.
The dark sparks of nowhere are dead.
The wallpaper is numb to my charm.
I am locked to the clock.
I have no choice.
I knot my tie.
Flush the toilet paper.
Trudge to the train.
The canyons of purgatory are waiting.
Publication details: "Nightmare" was first published when posted on the Internet by Hugh Cook on 2003 October 18 Saturday. Copyright © 2003 Hugh Cook. All rights reserved.
Those who have fathomed my desires
Are sending me e-mail.
The world at my window,
Cams wide open,