As Conrad lays sleepless in bed, he writes:
The clock is ticking,
Now eleven twenty six.
The covers on my lap,
The dark now whispers:
Soon all will be well.
I have much to say,
Though words from my tongue do slip.
Sleepless I wait, as my mind flourishes…
Images of memories, good and bad,
Yet I wait.
I wait for my eyes to see,
The darkness and emptiness of sleep.
So they may feel the warmth…
I quietly wait
My eyes long for dreams
Dreams with pictures so clear,
So vivid, alive, and no tears.
Politely, I tell myself
Better still, I convince myself,
Nothing is better than pure fantasy,
Fantasy that hides beneath darkness,
Darkness that frightens at first,
Soon becomes unnoticeable.
I wait as millions of thoughts run through my head
Pixels of light, blur of words,
I wait, and I wait…
I see darkness,
I hear him, I see him.
Screaming, laughing…
Wait, it’s the TV I hear.
Oddly, I am scared.
For I hear a noise unlike any other,
Not a noise but a chill,
I don’t see darkness anymore.
Something is wrong, someone is here.
I see water, I see people,
I still hear him.
The peculiar noise is gone,
The chill is now in my stomach,
Pictures slowly creep up,
Up, and around, and slowly,
So slow every detail is clear.
That day is now vivid,
I am nearly blinded with reality.
A group of boys, water, a raft.
Screaming, tears, more water.
The chill is back in my stomach.
I hear him coming down the stairs,
The slideshow of memories resume.
I must be asleep.
“Conrad, why don’t you go to sleep in your bed. The couch is uncomfortable.” Calvin says.
© 2013 Stephanie Alfaia Gomes All Rights Reserved