PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was a late night dream, glass breaking a blood curdling scream. Her name unknown,lived in a small apartment upstairs, she once used my phone. Her fingernails chewed to the bone,bags under eyes, I think she lived alone. She would stay up all night until fatigue set in. No sun for this one her blanket was a curtain. She use to say they would read her thoughts. I asked her they were, she pointed at the tv I bought. I said I'm sorry you must be mistaken. She said no, I see clearly now, I'm not on my medication. See they live in your phone, tv and computer screens. Her eyes were bugging, mouth foaming, something like I never seen. I said let me walk you back up to apt 2b. She I don't need your help ,just leave me be. She had tattered  clothes , earring in her nose,never wore shoes, never painted her toes. That day there was an Erie silence, then I heard her punching the walls , screaming, getting violent. Pictures being thrown to the floor,I felt bad for this chick so I knocked on the door. I said hey are you ok?, it's me from down stairs. She said go away,they can hear you! Go back downstairs!  went back to my crib and stared to drink ,passed out my bed, if felt like a blink. I woke up to knocks at my door, cops questioning me about some screams. I told them what she told me , I guess they finally got her, that lady in apt 2b