The Night Mare

Some nights, when I drift off into dreamland
The Night Mare enters my mind through a passage,
Of which is still a mystery to me.
Through this passage,
She terrorizes my imagination and creates havoc in my thoughts.
She stampedes through the vessels of my brain,
Trailing her dark, mystique aura.
Then I’m swept into a fog,
An ominous atmosphere.
She’s grand and intimidating,
Which impels me into feeling elfin in her presence.
Her ebony hide, satiny smooth,
And her swarthy mane drifting like a curtain behind her,
Impels me into giving in to her teasing.
In some vast regions of ‘land’,
She halts to nibble some ‘grass’,
Tickling the surface of my cerebrum.
Then haunting images materialize behind my eyelids.
The beat of my heart conforms to the tempo of her hooves.
She persists on galloping, faster and faster.
And all I can do is allow her to bewitch me into a trance,
Caught off guard and unprepared.
This is her film of horror
And she is the director.
Her toxic neighing flows through my ears
Keeping in the cruel sounds of her terrifying masterpiece,
Drowning out everything else created by my mind.
However, after hours of patronizing me
With sinister images being played consecutively through my head,
I finally remember, recall, realize
That I am in control
I finally remember, recall, realize
That I’ve driven away this substantial creature before.
Myriads of times.
I peel my eyelids open,
As cold sweat trickles down the side of my head,
And I smile.
A wide, victorious smile.
Once again, I have conquered
The Night Mare.