Bed Bugs

Anxiety's thread talons tear at the night

they even infest the light

diffused by veils

held over eyes at sunrise

when the paradise insects in the head

keep crawling over the skin.

 

Vultures hide between the sheets,

vampires roam under the bedspread

as the subversive cerebral moans

of mental spells mean to alter the past,

create new plots by placebo phantoms

who slither as brain serpents

through the slumbering sands.

 

There’s no cure for those claws

because they grow inside,

monster when misunderstood,

but fairies hiding among the pillow pillars.

 

Perhaps there is a flyswatter

that can squash those nagging specs,

only they will never die

since they are fleas of inspiration,

which bite with their toxins

you either feel as visions

or the creeping urges towards darkness,

always left screaming

when you only lie on the mattress

rather that kiss the cotton

and give into the cravings.