Underneath the House
of reoccurring nightmares.
Tempestuous storms, black clouds in my mind
Through gravitas dreams, borderline snares, I dart.
Ticks and tocks of moon man’s clock watches time.
Unnerved, afraid, ghosts of guilt pierce my heart.
💀
Stenches of rot implicate all senses.
Risen from the floor by conflicts espoused.
Decomposed sins, the past denigrated.
Buried in the muck underneath the house.
💀
Night air surrounded by sirens of blue.
I quake, the graves will be discovered.
Imprisonment waits, forever subdued.
Behind steel bars, by justice sequestered.
💀
Moon man’s bells ring, and I am joggled awake.
Are reoccurring nightmares genuine or fake?
💀💀💀
This Sonnet is based on a reoccurring nightmare where I fear the house I own has dead bodies buried beneath. Whether mine or not, I might be blamed.
No, I'm not a serial killer. I believe it symbolizes the conscientious, but suppressed, errors of my past. Subconsciously, don’t we all have something buried… somewhere?
Dinner anyone?
About the Creator
J. S. Wade
Since reading Tolkien in Middle school, I have been fascinated with creating, reading, and hearing art through story’s and music. I am a perpetual student of writing and life.
J. S. Wade owns all work contained here.
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