It's a Nightmare

Here's a charming little sonnet I wrote one Friday the 13th:

Nightmare

 by Mark Alfred

Enveloping, it chafes and smothers you;

You have no warning; then it is too late

To keep from seeing what no others do.

This is your private torment; yours the gate

That leads into the hidden, dim recess

Of every misbegotten lust and dream.

For nothing here forbids: no foul excess

Can be denied in this dark-litten gleam.

Your self is yourself’s  pris’ner, and no cell

Could grip with clammy clutch to such intent.

Awakened, you must sleep, and who could tell

What horrors lurked in sleep, or what they meant?

It seems the grandest terrors still remain;  

Your pleasant, daylight heart must bear the stain.

Come back on Monday for more trips down Halloween Lane.  Now, head on over to Spock’s Record Round-Up for musical fun during Spooky Spock-Tober!