not sure what to say
dry tongue, parched throat
screaming from the soul
with soundless purchase
in the nightmares of 2 a.m.
unafraid, unyielding
yet terrified and trembling
uncertain of what I’m doing
yet ready to go down fighting.
And in the face of imagined enemies
slinking through the walls
clawing through the cieling
breathing through the vents
I can’t decide where it came from
the terror in my pounding heart
if it was the last snicker bar I had before bed
or the face of Michael Jackson
flashing through my head
or the ads for Facebook and Myspace
rearing up like the undead
peppering my xanga site
with silly disgrace
taking away from what was a great face
giving me nightmares
a writer might have
when realizing their journal
has been sold to the ads.

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