Nightmares

I'm someone who doesn't sleep well. 
Lately, I've been having the strangest of nightmares.
You know the kind where you wake up nauseous, sweating, your heart racing
and you're stiff as a board.
Your thoughts race through your head and veins.
It feels like nothing will ever be able to calm you down. 
You want to breathe deep feel the tension slip away.
You want that feeling that nothing can stop you.
I know I do. 

I've been stressed these last few weeks. The tension building in my daily life, the sickness swirling in me, the emptiness of everything making my stomach clench and my head throb. I just want one day where I'm able to relax. I don't even have a day off. Physically I may be present, but my mind is somewhere else. I'm bored at work. I remain unchallenged, my intellect unused. It provides me with nothing but time to let my depression and anxiousness consume me. I find myself daydreaming of escape while nausea sits in the pit of my stomach.
I want to be able to sleep, but I can't. It feels as if my own relief, my one release, has been stolen from me in the form of nightmares. Each night I lay down, curled up safe and warm under the duvet, the cotton of the sheets soft and cool against my skin. I'm strapped down by twine weaved by rainbow coloured pills. They're supposed to help me sleep, keep the monsters at bay and provide me with a safe haven to slumber in. Standard dreams turn into monstrous communications. My daily stresses are pooling, letting themselves out in the form of graphic imagery that leaves me screaming in the middle of the night. The circles under my eyes darken. The desire to hide, to crawl away deepens.

I'm being chased. But I don't know by what. I'm in a constant state of panic. I run through familiar streets, twisting and turning trying to stay hidden. Flashes of murderous faces covered with paint pop out of the shadows. My screams echo through the empty corridors. I trip over my laces. Laying face down on the wet pavement I hear their laughter surrounding me. This is how I die. In a dirty ally being tortured, raped and murdered. This is what happens when you're not a good person. I want to scream out, but my voice is lost somewhere in my chest. And I figure because I've never really mattered before, why would I start to matter now? Each time I've begged for help, I've been ignored. This changes nothing. I welcomed death in the past, but never anything like this. My bones ache. I lay in the rain just wanting the end to come. The suspense is killing me.
They attack me, holding me down, pulling at me. I feel their hands and tongues exploring my body, taking away any comfort I ever had. They slash through my clothes, bite me and chew on me, every inch of my skin is burning with their touch. I close my eyes. I want it to stop. I want it to go away. The smell of blood and semen makes me nauseous as they mingle together in the air and on my skin.
I crawl away from the remains of my attack site, wanting nothing more than to stop hurting. There is a ringing in my ears. Every part of my body hurts. I want to know that I will be okay. I was before, but the first few times wasn't like this. I'm disgusting. I deserve this. I don't deserve anything but pure agony. I think of him and I wail harder. If he didn't think me disgusting before he will now. I wish I was there, his soft stomach keeping me safe from everything. I want to be held again. I ache for that comfort.
The stars burn out above us. I press into him harder, wanting him to protect me from the horror around us. I feel the pain of a thousand reckonings crashing around me. All I want to do is breathe deep in the summer air and feel freedom. I want to wrap myself in it, wrap myself in him. The city around us is burning and unforgiving. I can feel my anxiety thundering through me, mingling with his. It becomes something else entirely. I can't put my finger on what it is. He laces his fingers in mine. He's struggling with his own fears, yet he somehow has time for mine. 

Then I see it's one of the fucking clowns. He grabs at me, I scream out. I know I'm dreaming. I know I need to wake up. I need to wake. It takes a few moments before the fog lifts and through the darkness, I wake into deeper darkness, my heart pounding and my stomach bubbling underneath my ribs. I'm laying on my front, my head in my hands. I didn't all asleep this way. I have no idea how I got into this position. Sometimes this happens. My eyeballs hurt. I'm exhausted. I roll over and look at the clock. It's 5.15 I need to be up for work.


:UPDATE:
I'm rebooting an old series that I've not worked on in a while but I think it will be great to show off some of the art pieces I've done this year, give some drawing tips and more! It's going to feature a lot of skull artwork, realism and other stuff! Can't wait to show you guys and maybe even do some prints! Who'd be down for some prints? Maybe even stickers! Those of you who know my art let me know! 

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