Nightmares Are Waiting by Deborah Guenther Beachboard

Writing metaphors

            with psychedelic ink,

but they are living things;

            taking me to hell in a basket

            of my own creation.

I open my mouth to scream,

            and out come flying wings

like seraphim fleeing flames

            from my unkempt mind;

            a portal of delusion.

Psychedelic ink in lines

            of script like code,

entangling my brain,

            invading the hidden place

            where nightmares are waiting.