They Never Leave

Let me tell you that the nightmares never leave.
Even after the music is over and the IV isn't dripping.
They put away those syringes long time ago- the ones they used to put me to sleep.
Sedated me in hopes that I wouldn't feel. In hopes that I wouldn't remember.
In hopes to drug me into oblivion for that one day.
But they couldn't stop the nightmares.
They surge in like mad bovines, their hooves and horns crushing all hope and faith.
I can still feel them trample my ribs.
Sometimes in the dead of the night, I think I still hear an ominous crack.

I had vultures sit on my chest making it impossible to breathe;
and as I woke up gasping for air,
all I saw was empty beds and walls of alabaster and a timeless clock.
And I'd persuade myself to sleep again repeatedly saying, "It's only a nightmare."

They come back.
They surge back.
With the force of thousand wildebeest and a million falling trees
I can feel the nightmare come for me, mocking me.

And I try to run.

But my legs don't function and my mouth is clamped shut,
and I can feel the wildebeest get closer while I simultaneously sink into the earth.
This pitch black silence is broken by sirens- my heart monitor beeping incessantly warning everyone around that my heart rate has doubled what is deemed normal.
It is now I wake up in a cold sweat; staring at my broken legs reassured to know they are still attached to me. Thinking that maybe someday I might be able to outrun the wildebeest.
But the nightmares never stop.
Even when it is all over. They're still only a few steps behind.