I See Dead People

I see dead people when I blink,

Not ghosts, but corpses black with stink.

Their sockets drip with mold and grief,

Their laughter comes like crawling teeth.

I do not sleep. I dare not rest.

They want the beating in my chest.

They gather round when night grows thin,

To pry the pulsing light within.

They wait in dreams with faces torn,

With mouths of maggots, eyes of scorn.

Their hands are bones, but still they clutch,

They pull, they drag, they take too much.

They whisper truths I once denied,

Of ancient stories, of how they died.

Their words are knives, they cut too deep,

They stitch my waking to my sleep.

Like lace that rots in graves unseen,

They shred my soul in threads unclean.

My ribs, a cage they rattle through,

Each heartbeat calls the dead anew.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Yikes! This is horribly delicious! Excellent work, I say. Fabulous rhyming and word choices.