Nothing

Murmurs in the mirror,
tomorrow has feathers fluttering in your head,
revealing exit signs to heaven
as the world spins in the brain,
because was you know or trust never remains the same
and sanity ends up borrowed at the drug store
where they sell packaged dreams.

Ghosts own every door in your life,
they rattle them with moans bring cold sweats
though only you can hear their sounds,
while assassins with faces you know
dance on the bed sheets,
they never need to sleep.

Sliding under the covers
in the middle of the day,
borrowing a brain from cartoons,
wishing all the monsters that hid in the shower
would just vanish or slip away.

Strapping your hopes to an oxygen tank
filled with fantasies,
the brain explodes from inhaling the air
only you can breathe.

Justice is the Long Ranger
who works as a security guard in your closet
he and Tonto play hearts to see
who will control your thoughts.

Ramblings of emptiness muttered as prayers,
spoken to the Lord who holds your peace,
the one you pray to every day to slay the terror
sensed lurking in every corner.

Faith is the one tangible
that in the midst of fret’s phantoms
offers refuge from the holes of nothing
in which the soul falls.