Night Terrors

Photographer Unknown
Guts on the cutting room
The mask makers pause
   in the approaching
   death shadow
The cracked visage
   mocks me
It’s rose grin is a shiver
   down my spine
I can only hear the
   blackbird wings scuffling
   of the obsidian hooded robes
   as they empty the room
The masks all stare at me
Terror impales me
Sleep paralysis
   can’t exhale
The open mouth
   makes no sound
   heart pounding
The faces spin ’round
It smells like death
The frigid chill is back
Your mask starts to sneer
Then all goes black
   The panting–
the crack in the mirror–
The bloody smile
   and the scarlet smear
© Jennifer Patino (2016)

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