‘Awoken’
By T.W. Humphries
Awoken in a cold sweat,
A scream echoes in my brain.
Awoken by a nightmare,
Whose power cannot be restrained.
Inside Inception’s Dreamscape,
A melding torpor of servitude.
I sit in a cafe drinking hot coffee,
Surveying the niceties of the moon.
Trust in a future destroyed,
My smile was woven on.
Fakery it was,
Smashed by a changing landscape.
Transformed before my eyes,
Unable to look away.
Like Pink Floyd’s marching hammers,
It drives its march into stay!
Horror mixes with anger,
And clashes in my mind.
The marching hammer is a redhead,
Repeating the same incongrous line.
“Hello Wayne,” It repeats with unrefined inflection,
The hazy metamorphosis of terror,
Transposes itself in my heart.
Causing me to scream,
With a fit and then a start.
The scene changes again,
I’m standing at the base of a mountain.
An attractive, aloof artist named Emily,
Stands atop the summit.
Painting furiously but obscuring the view.
She turns and smiles sexily,
Beckoning me up the hill.
I stride one step,
And then two.
Finally at the top,
She stands aside to reveal.
A shining potrait of “ME!”,
As “The Scream!”.
It screams at me,
I scream back,
Everything dissipates,
Except her naughty come hither smile.
Awake in a cold sweat,
I cannot escape the echo of the scream.
Through blurred vision, I mumble incomprehensions,
My own ‘pysche’ was in that warped land known as ‘nightmareville’.
Weirdly the moon was bright at noon,
And stirred my heart to sing.
Then hollered at me saying,
“Hello, Wayne”,
With such a repetitious, annoying grin.
Doesn’t matter though,
I had a friend at the top of the hill.
Who waved and laughed a moment,
Before revealing the ‘screams’ ultimate end.
Reminding my psyche,
That I hadn’t gone,
Completely off the deep end.
Not yet anyway.
