Waiting for the Walls

i leave the idea

of a man shaped impression

upon my sheets

and foremost

in my mind

as i step into

another dream

wrapped in the smell

of fresh linen

and cheap fabric softener

i step into

an iron porthole

made of madness

tunnels and caves

foreboding shrouds

of bottomless dark

emptiness' held together

by the shadows of despair

the many legged manifestations

of silly little fears

run wild

my claustrophobia

pinging thru the roof

every nerve aflame

the very end

of every hair

on end

waiting for the walls

to cave in

and crush me

in the rubble

waiting for the walls

to collapse

for the roof to drop

squash me flat

waiting for the walls

to shrink about me

and to pin me there

until i die

waiting for the walls

to steal my light and wits

and set me

stumbling

in the dark

waiting for the walls

to tie me to a chair

in a cold, wet room

place a dirty gun barrel in my mouth

lean in really, really close

and whisper

... "why wait for the walls?"

B A N G !

i awake heart racing

dry of mouth

and with a pressing

need

to urinate