Tales Of My Nightmares

Daylight destroys my mournful world,
Where a guilty conscious weeps,
But in the depths of my haunted mind,
Lingers every murderous sin and desire.
And as the judgmental sun sets behind me,
Memories of your faces and words echo before me,
Bringing evocative thoughts of your lives and your deaths,
And I still see the blood on my hands,
A debt I can not repay with anything,
But the lives of my beloved.

So I lay my head down on a dusty pillow,
For what is the millionth time,
Only to be tormented by the devastation that taunts my mind,
My eyes slide closed as though weighted by lead,
And my imagination turns to the gloom.
Flying throughout my dreams with the wings of a angel.
Heartless and hopeless on the margins of my sanity.
Sinking deeper into chasms of space and time,
Diving helplessly into sorrow and torment.
The Dead Sea reach out for a handful of flesh,
For the warmth my cursed life brings me,
An ounce of love,
Of the heartfelt emotions that were displayed before,
For just a taste from my throbbing veins.
And they howl every one of my sins to plague my thoughts,
As they have done so many times before.
My family, friends and every other thing I was or am to love,
Turned against me, moaning in an endless, toneless, ceaseless song.
They tell me, I, like everyone of them, shan’t be forgiven,
But I continue on,
With the murderous screams of the dead ringing in my ears.

And above the desperate corpses, rotting and cold,
Stands their merciless Master, clothed in black,
Hands like spiders, rest on the head of a young girl,
She pleads for her life in the filth and the fog.

"Oh Sir, won’t you spare me?
I shall do all you ask,
My brother is out there,
In that tireless mass,
Do you not have a heart,
Can’t I go to save his dear soul?"

He grinned at her wryly and looked up at me.

"Should I spare her dear life,
Innocent and pure,
Or should I remove it so she falls to the floor?
Should I spare her dear life,
Simple and sweet,
Or should I slay your dear daughter,
There at your feet?"

And without another mutter, from the melancholy pair,
He viciously pulls from her delicate shoulders a head so fair,
Drops her frail body to the hard stone floor,
And throws her wailing head to the Sea,
As the blood from her neck splatters on the dank grey soil.
Master looks down his crooked waxen nose and laughs,
And kicks the lifeless young body to the raging tide.

Turns to challenge me,
His face is sad and solemn,
But in his eyes a satisfied sparkle can be seen,
As the blood from her fatal wounds stain my hands once again.

"Back again to this haven of a place I see,
Every night you come to speak with me,
‘Tis the sorrow in your life that brings you hear,
From dusk till dawn, every day of every year."
The knife that twirled slowly in his fingertips fell to the floor,
"I can keep you from this place," He proclaimed,
"I can keep you in Gods grace,
Sane and sure,
No blood on your hands, But for a costly price,
I gleefully admit, and painful one what’s more."

It was true, what he said, though I still agreed.
But the night under my eyes still haunts me so,
For I still never sleep, but now I’ll never live for you,
And Master is with me always,
In my nightmares and my dreams.
In every long, painful, waking moment,
In every thought and every wish,
In every empty smile or laugh,
In every heartbeat and every sob.

And the gaping hole in my chest echoes for eternity,
As my heart beats as a drum in my hands,
Enclosed in a box of ebony, shining and black,
Locked from the world and the pain it will bring.