Deja Screams

The O.C.D part of my brain wants to count the attached boxcars. The coward in me wants to scream. I’ve never believed in miracles but I desperately could use one now. Either that or lets just get this over with.

I want to go back to sleep, but after overdosing on caffeine I just inspect the inside of my eyelids instead. Opaque shadows come through them, I pray the lord my soul to keep, and I pray harder to see the not so round dots under the microscope. Just my luck they’re all gone now and each of the circles is perfect again.

I hear the thin Detroit steel distort before it rips apart. Shards of both headlights float from their places. A faceless entity pulls my feet from under the dashboard.

Bingggggggg. I must have still been sleeping all along. I wipe the night from my eyes I see the institutional green bars.

I instinctively plug in the hot pot before roaring with laughter at the irony of it all. In order to be safe from my nightmares –  I have to wake up in prison again.