PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Inanimate objects are whispering my name.
calling me out on every failure I seemed to not overcome.
They corner me with their sick succulent tongues.
I almost wish to do as they say, they seem so manipulative.
The distorted voices come from walls
and full pill bottles asking me to drown myself
to eat a weeks worth of seroquel to finally achieve the sleep I wish I could get.
My first thought is, I need help.
No way around it. My mind is destructive and starting to be overly responsive.

I cant sleep with out terrors climbing into my subconscious
making me run for my life to where I wake with no energy for I wasted it all in my dreams.
...In my dreams
repeating.
repeating.
repeating.
Night. After Night. After Night.

waking up unwary in a hospital bed as I plummet deeper into my my dreams.
Its overwhelming and I feel as If I am possessed by my demons I should be fighting.
I have cuts and scrapes I can't really define how or why I got them.
But they prevent me from dreamless sleep witch is my only goal.
To just exist in darkness no thoughts or feeling to overwhelm me.
me without you with my eye's closed.
Post traumatic stress disorder.
Drugs and unwanted hallucinations.
I am a mere puppet of man
witch the ventriloquist of an angry soul confides me.
and wastes my potential and time.
Helpless I struggle to keep moving.
I exist only in the memories my head repeats constantly from my past.