i was bored

Night Terrors

when the night beckons, and the darkness
coaxes our eyes to a blinding submission
like an annoying, monotonous habit;
reality giggles and wails, hanging on to the vulva; dearly.
enchanting new birth- serenaded by fallacies
as lyrical as ghazals, Man knew no better.

bermimpi, the malays say-
a word as soft and light as its tongue
that knew no better than itself; lost in translation
and sense.
cocooned in its saliva of delusion, we taste the asphyxiation
with our eyes, and see untold prophecies that do little
than giggle; dearly.

a flurry of light and sound; that travels
no further than Venus’ trap, we toss turn tremble
at the mercy of our simulacrum-

i am no prelapsarian warrior. i grow tiresome too.