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.