when there is no world
no footsteps in the ceiling
no static from the television through the wall
i open my eyes from dreams in twilight
to find my mind racing through bad calculus
through morphine confusion paranoia
ten thousand cameras and i naked tied to the wall
unable to see my hands numb fingered and dizzy
unable to taste the appropriate dosage of nyquil
pouring down my throat i myself the monster above my bed
twenty-seven years of carving at my bones
trying to whittle myself a story
and it’s all gone at the first drop of the witching hour
where caffeine nightmares blend with apocalypse
not beautiful no
not a sunsetting into the mountains
but ten thousand soldiers gasmasked and artilleried
black shadows at the windows at all the doors
looming overcast of eternal separation from family
from friends from love from a sense that what i do in this reality
will carry through time like a robot sent to mars
someday to return to nasa
with binary data with information of what we did not know
and once the ugly thunder is dissipated
i never rest i just comatose back to blankness

in the morning
it’s like a war flashback from another life
hollow boned i make my coffee
buckle my belt and head out the door
a robot sent to mars
memory of sweat still gleaming on my shaken soul


Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

3 thoughts on “NIGHT TERROR POEM”

  1. I Love the line “twenty-seven years of carving at my bones
    trying to whittle myself a story” Fantastic!! Sometimes I feel like I’m trying to carve myself into a story or maybe a different story than what the 3 Fates have woven for my life thus far.

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