Semi-Conscious

By Whit

And on the edge of my sanity
It all comes back to me
In the semi-conscious state of mind
between wake and sleep.

The memories rushing in
clear and hazy, defined and distorted all at once
Threatening to take hold and never let go.

I toss and turn, punch and kick,
whimper and silently scream
fighting myself.

Taste of fear and blood and violence
the feel of smooth betrayal done
on the semi-conscious.

I hear the soft click of a lock
hushed malevolent whispers
I hear rumbling laughter at my expense.

Oblivion sets in for a spell
then I hear them again before unconsciousness
steals my reactions from me.

I wake from my drug induced sleep
take in fully my naked vulnerability
The voice of a friend, A FRIEND, who is the leader
in this crime against my body.

No oblivion comes to hinder
my possible fight to protect and preserve
I turn my head and find again my voice.

A throat parched with horror croaks out
a trying scream
Male laughter mixed with confusion.

A deep breath, I scream
with all the might of desperation
All I know is the scream.

Strangers pour into the room
my girlfriend comes and runs them off
She picks me up and dresses me.

I’m late getting home, find my knife,
I’ll kill them myself
WHO DID THIS TO ME?

Cut off from all emotional acknowledgement
in my waking hours
I build the walls around the nightmare.

There is no denying what it is,
what I feel, semi-conscious
In the time between wake and sleep.

Hurt, shame, betrayal, rage, and suffering
all aimed at myself
But I felt no pity.

Heart clutching fear, seeing my friend
on the street, at the fair
Ice cold panic courses my veins.

-W

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Image from: india.com

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Dear Lord

Dear Lord,

Stop the pain.  Please.

By Whitney

Dear Lord,

Stop the pain. Please?! Stop the murderous rage coursing through my veins.

Stop the tears, the dry tears running down my pale cheeks.

Nobody can see.

My body is shaking, craving a cure bigger and better than cancerous nicotine.

My mind is tumorous, crazy, needing more than just illegal drugs.

Nobody can tell.

Dear Lord,

The pressures and demands, the stress and problems, all unload onto me.

Can no one see my shoulders are no longer as broad?

I can’t take on the world.

When once strong, I am now weaker than the weakest being alive.

When once I had all the answers , now in their place questions are all I find.

Solving them is no longer an opportunity, it went in his moment of lust.

Dear Lord,

Can no one see I just need to be left along?

I’m more lonely in a crowd than locked in my room…by myself…

Alone.

Dear Lord,

You all say everything will be fine, I just need some help.

Support.

But no one can.

How can you support me if you don’t understand me?

Can’t look into my soul and tell what you see.

How could you see my soul when it’s unclear to even me,

hazy misty fog.

Does anyone even truly see as far as my heart?

is there one left?

It’s been torn and ripped apart so much that if I have one, it is surely pale as scars.

Dear Lord,

Is there a meaning to my life besides being a toy to be crushed in the of men?

Countless nameless cruelties done to me which return to terrorize my dreams.

Is there ever a decent nights sleep, more beyond a tireless few hours?

How I yearn for a peaceful eight hour nights sleep filled with child-like fantasy.

How i wish for this deeply ingrained terror to leave me be.

Who knows when I’ll wake up with a knife in my hand again?

I fear my sleep for to sleep long and deep meant to flashback and die all over again.

Slow and painful death each time I remember, each nightmare revisited.

Dear Lord,

Stop the pain. Please.

2017-07-23 18_48_39-(2) Whitney L Morgan