Night Mares

Because Limp Bizkit refuses to die

By Brent TharpPublished 4 years ago • 1 min read

Roll on.

Roll, steeds—

Carry me when I bleed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Roiling the fury through the night,

Blind me

With your eyes so bright.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Plunge deep

The horror, the release,

The beck and call, to lose it all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Smoke rises . . .

From the hollow.

Stamp it down; trample my soiled crown.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tamp me brown,

Collapse my walls.

Possess nothing, but call it all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No matter, you say, where I’ve been,

You will gladly crush my soul again.

I edit STEM books. I like writing, cats, and wine, though not necessarily in that order.

I was raised by wolves in a small forest somewhere in Middle America.

Why don't ketchup bottles squirt correctly? All or nothing seems grifty to me.

Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.