Nightmares

In my bed and out of
the visual port. Surfacing
from a nightmare sleep.
He was there, Step-dad
still haunting.

I recall his talons, on my
liquid spewed back.
His hand slippery while
forcing me down.
Grabbing my hair
he tossed me over
for the frontal assault.

Sharp and deep, he clawed my
bloody eyes out.
To make me not see,that
he’s a man with a
touch of criminal insanity.

Fog laden and black
are the hues of this life.
In-between eye drops
and leakage.
Lacking distinctness, not
dull nor bright.

The shock of his death
numbs my senses.
Disturbed eye sockets, cracked
with woolen webs.
Orbital madness
with no
view in sight.

Pleasant dreams Janet.
© Janet Caldwell