Was it Worth It ~ A Nightmare Verse
Saturday afternoon sun warps the horizon.
Liquid, casting it's orange glow
setting the house on fire.
It is vacant, dilapidated
Would be condemned if there were neighbors
Close enough to care.
I am alone when night falls
and I hear the rumble of the engine
before I see the truck cresting the hill.
Isolation, dead cell phone
and a 1% selling commission...
I'm crazy...but service sells.
His name is Harley...I remember as though it really happened
I still can't look at men named Harley.
For fear he really exists.
Harley has friends
They are big, they are dirty
and their motives are no better.
Toothless smiles greet me
I can smell whiskey
See the gun in the brackets on the back window
The stairs of the warping front veranda scream their resistance as we approach
There is no key, there is no lock
Just hot breath on my neck
But I am not in control of my body
Harley is
and the basement is no place I want to visit.
The team of three soon finish with me
I think of yellow kitchens and card parties
I think of childhood
And I see myself...just a girl
I see the gun
I hear the gun.
Wasted, bruised, battered, bloodied
Pain enough to raise me
as the last I see
Is a seven year old me
with smoking gun
over the now dead three.
I've been told my sleeping world of nightmares is a direct reflection of the horror movies I watch. Never quite bought that, as I've suffered from nightmares well before I was old enough to watch the movies. One thing always leads to another, so I have journals where I have recorded such dream in hopes of interpretation...but there are those that require no dream dictionary.
The awesomeness that is Stuart McPherson is prompting Poetics today over at dVersePoets. I've been lurking on others to get a hint and since I'll be out showing houses when the prompt goes live, I took my best guess and shared this. Hope I'm on point...and hope the buyer I'm meeting isn't named Harley. ;)
Liquid, casting it's orange glow
setting the house on fire.
It is vacant, dilapidated
Would be condemned if there were neighbors
Close enough to care.
I am alone when night falls
and I hear the rumble of the engine
before I see the truck cresting the hill.
Isolation, dead cell phone
and a 1% selling commission...
I'm crazy...but service sells.
His name is Harley...I remember as though it really happened
I still can't look at men named Harley.
For fear he really exists.
Harley has friends
They are big, they are dirty
and their motives are no better.
Toothless smiles greet me
I can smell whiskey
See the gun in the brackets on the back window
The stairs of the warping front veranda scream their resistance as we approach
There is no key, there is no lock
Just hot breath on my neck
But I am not in control of my body
Harley is
and the basement is no place I want to visit.
The team of three soon finish with me
I think of yellow kitchens and card parties
I think of childhood
And I see myself...just a girl
I see the gun
I hear the gun.
Wasted, bruised, battered, bloodied
Pain enough to raise me
as the last I see
Is a seven year old me
with smoking gun
over the now dead three.
I've been told my sleeping world of nightmares is a direct reflection of the horror movies I watch. Never quite bought that, as I've suffered from nightmares well before I was old enough to watch the movies. One thing always leads to another, so I have journals where I have recorded such dream in hopes of interpretation...but there are those that require no dream dictionary.
The awesomeness that is Stuart McPherson is prompting Poetics today over at dVersePoets. I've been lurking on others to get a hint and since I'll be out showing houses when the prompt goes live, I took my best guess and shared this. Hope I'm on point...and hope the buyer I'm meeting isn't named Harley. ;)
Comments
... sent chills to my core Tash, sorry you went through this even in a dream, it gave me that intense desire to wake up. Fortunately as an adult I can wake myself from nightmares or redirect the action.
I wonder if writing this down will drive the cause of this from your mind for good.
http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2012/03/31/blood-on-the-moon-3/
rosemarymint.wordpress.com
Hope this has only been informed by your fertile imagination and not some past experience.
This was a nightmare on so many levels,cannot imagine the kind of evil men that would torture a child such, yet you hear these stories so frequently. At least there came an end to the torture itself in this. Excellent piece in a really dark way, Natasha.