An Ode to Sleep Paralysis and Her Wicked Ways

She is a crisis,

she sits in my room.

Whittling the time away at 2am as I'm thrust

down

by unknown forces,

- wringing my being between here and there -

just

scream,

though nobody is there.

An ache,

a turn of the screw,

a g-h-o-s-t in the machine.

A few minutes and she

:disappears:

- I'm wrestled

awake

silently weeping,

- sleep escapes me -

the endless

night is reflected through corner of

the bedroom mirror.

And fear remains

permeating

the space where the moonlight

meets

my

bloodshot eyes.

***

I await her arrival

once again

at 2am

my alarm pushes the sounds of

bells

through the air

- and yes, she's there -

Why are you here?

I shout without reply,

- movement-is-impossible -

and my limbs lock up.

Can I remember opening my eyes?

She has swindled me again

and again

and again

and -