Niklas Stephenson

Awake to Nightmares

the severed head of medusa flies through spheres
copy and pasted endlessly as screens show raped
words for fame
lick the hands of Dr. Mengele an iron taste
of human shame
the ratline ties a noose around my hopes
they suffocate but won’t die the invisible hand feeds it
substance for conscience
caged in by bones and teeth and scalps
resembling markets
in an absolute darkness the interior is superior
but the doors are shut
the lizard king drowns in the blood on the street
graveyards in Paris buried the best men
a shotgun blast through the mouth leaves a
generation dead what followed was trauma
art as dissociation a line was erased
irrational emotion and obligation
Eichmann reserved claiming innocence
as teenage girls sell sex for the prude
taste sweat and tears the salt of our wounds
I am a wound in Limbo the philosophers
have disappeared
evangelist radicals scream the truth the left ears
of listeners sown shut
a gaping fire pit of hate mistaken for a mouth
that doesn’t close
ants crawl on skin the cliche withdrawal the ants
are norms not created by fiending brains
my toes on acid they dig into the ground unable
to move as fish fly through the sky carrying
moral travelers
hyperbolic adjectives smack my brain
I cannot sleep
I awake to nightmares

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