Demons

Ugly as can be, is the monster

I dream about while I sleep.

 

It leaps and the sound of beating wings

comes from above and awakens me.

 

What flies around my bed looks like

the gargoyle from my dream

 

coming to haunt my waking hours,

something I will not allow.

 

Without dispute, I reach under my bed for my

shotgun to shoot it with and send it back to hell.

 

Looking into its gruesome face there’s not much,

space when I try to squeeze the trigger.

 

I feel its icy mind, like a cold wind, penetrating mine

rushing to the center to be near where my fear resides

 

and tries to instill in me enough fright to make me believe

I’m not right so I will not blast it back to where it belongs.

 

Mentally it has me beat, but being fleet, I jump upon its back.

Flapping wings try to take me high into the sky so I’ll die.

 

I stick my rifle between its wings. Without room to flap

it falls back into my lap. I pound it with my rifle butt.

 

“Stay out of my dream and away from me when I’m awake,”

I scream as I beat it so bad it begs me to stop.

 

I do when I recognize the shrill screaming voice and know I’m

not dreaming, when I see my blood spattered wife.