Subconscious Poison

I feel your touch and taste your kisses,

Both sickly poison,

Too sweet to resist, too deadly to want.

My hatred of you runs deep,

Coursing through my veins, like blood,

A life force of its own.

Not hot,

Not cold,

Not bitter,

Just the tepid sting of indifference,

A bland nothingness for a bad nightmare long past.

Yet here you are,

In my high school hallway,

Against a row of lockers.

Mine is 1321.

They're melting, hot cheap steel,

Dripping hues of blue and gold,

The school colours that ruled my youth,

Onto freshly-polished linoleum.

A poorly fitting vestige to match your poorly fitting pants.

You're 30 years too soon,

And 20 years too late.

Yet I feel you.

Near me,

On me,

I feel sick.

Panic wells up in my gut as the crowd gathers near,

Cheers and jeers, thunderous,

And then, we're gone.

Change of venue.

A forest, thick and dark.

Running,

Crying,

Trying desperately to escape something foul.

Something so sinister,

So soul-crushingly dangerous,

I just can't breathe.

No air.

Nothing.

I can't move.

And I jolt from my slumber, breathless,

Shaking,

Sweating,

Frantic,

Until I look around and realize,

It was all a dream.