Woodchip Incubi

Lids are heavy in seeing last glimpse
Finally cease to trace the hated wallpaper
Flutter open and sink again
and again in seconds
Weight and sprawling paralysis
Comforter moving with pressure
But not me, I am still
So deathly still and pounding
inside my head
Adrenaline flows in an urge
to flutter back open but I dare not
A long time waits inbetween
and I know the moonlit growth
still spreads and breeds on my wall
More texture in patterned hell
A thousand little drop shadows
that I yearn to see
But if I give in and look
My horror will show itself to me
Still not moving but being moved
and then ... nothing
release and feather-light
Pressure gone, not pressing or pushing
In seconds I flick open and look
Reaching out I stroke the wall
My pulse in my fingertips matching
each gaudy, hideous lump, beckoning
Door slowly shuts in half-light
I think it did ... or did it?
Maybe not
I can only see the woodchip

~ Copyright Charlotte Sometimes (SRWB) 2008