It doesn’t matter if it’s all a nightmare now,
something of the darkness that attacks you at your weakest,
lurking in the dimmed light so you can recognise its outline.
It doesn’t matter if I can forget about it as if it was just a dream,
something so light and harmless it flits and floats away from me.
It’s there. Constantly forcing it to be remembered,
waiting for your defences to be distracted
by words or other memories,
lyrics or lines,
people or places.
It’s there ready for when you’re already weakened by
facts or figures,
necessary pills and potions,
prescribed chats and broken minds.
It seeps through the cracks in your shattered brain,
pulsating through the neurons and the veins
until it’s happening in front of you.
Your worst nightmare, your worst memories replaying
over and over again
stomping and screaming,
over your head and in your soul-
so just because it’s in the past it doesn’t mean it's
any less current and
But then it’s gone.