nightmares
With mad purpose I break tonight, remembering the phoenix
that died trying to rebirth.
It is the same story, the one with a different character,
but the same actor. Night has broken. Shambles of mental monologues have
disintegrated into complicated dialogues with no point. This is the syncope I
keep trying to pronounce — the loss of sound from within the words, where one
eats up parts of the word in course of habit, and I eat up parts of my
sentences, in course of poor habit.
An incomplete nightmare, always leaving the possibility of
its completion as a prospect of horror. Desolation inviting loneliness. A
melody that glitches in the middle, a song that sings to itself, recalling its
words from the echoes, but never quite getting them right. This is most
definitely a trance.
I am not awake.
Silence hears the universe call out for hope, the distance
fading it all. The universe continues anyway. The coherence still broken. The
words still haphazard, but not quite. "There must be a pattern," my
human mind ponders yet again. The pattern vanishes. The maze closes in. The sky
shrieks.
I am not dreaming.
It is unexplainable, the sudden urge for destruction. But
there is nothing left to destroy.
Dreams stand ruined, bleeding into nightmares. But are
nightmares just dreams in someone else's life? I cannot know.
My mind returns to its purpose. I am to break. Then, I am to
take a deep breath and wake up to normalcy, drink up some caffeine, let happier
sentences dictate my mood, and listen to good music.
Dawn breaks. Alarms ring. Eyes open. Almost silence. In the
distance, echoes of the glitches. Repeating. This is the nightmare.
nightmares
Written by Yash Raj Talan
