i have not survived a dream for weeks.
i've gotten sluggish.
stalkers and assailants get pricklingly closer now, get all my hairs erect
and i feel their sore lust sharply through these antenna.
formerly i outran lightning eels and slaughtered humunculi like butter
but my carnal brain has gotten soft.
i could touch them,
if i strained i could feel their breath and the reverberations of their half-hearts
and if i was still and small enough they would surely mutilate my chicken-like carcass with unimaginable teeth.
they've even said i've got to murder them some
that i designed them for death to hold my own peace
and that things can't go on this way.
a more resourceful nightmare thought to steal an infant from me
to spur me on
and all i could manage was to break a few windows and chain her loosely to nothing.
i've got enough fear to boil,
too much fear of the comfort i take in unhinging their flesh
false as it may be.

i was being hunted the other night
and i brought myself to stab my seeker several times.
he oozed all sorts of sweet-scented jelly and looked at me
like i must be joking.
i woke up dry as dirt
with a sulky conscience.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...