Nightmare in Two rooms

 nightmares crawl from the walls of the house
into the maze of the mind where
they sit, repeating their mantra
over and over and over
lulling themselves into a frantic cage of no being
money flying out bat-green, searching,
flying with no direction (or a direction mapped out by fear)
lured into the room of justification and doubt.

where did this begin?
who has opened the door to this world of webs and strings?
navigating blindly beneath a cloud-covered sun, a dark moon -
where did this begin?

Truth and untruth are so closely related
to step from one to the other
is just a matter of centimeters, of nanoseconds in time.

in the first room the shouts rang out during deep night's sleep
calling with anxiety, with fear of the erasing game
infected by a virus, sick and fading from reality (or non-reality)
sick and fading into non-reality (or reality)
hidden from the view of anyone who had eyes
it faded - infected, ill,
taking the whole of the drive with it
down the rabbit hole to god knows what self-computed death.

Earlier there were cigarette incantations, rung round
by food and more food for the nourishment of who knows what body,
of what man or woman and it was all so confusing
as to whether it was to be fed or drugged and whether
the computer was fed/unfed, drugged/not drugged
and why wait on the corner by the drug houses for the
car from Illinois carrying the man who would heal it?
why say the Domino's order was wrong
three hours later and who will fix it
and how will it be fixed except by money?

If there were no response to the howling calls
there would be none
if there were no response to the pleas and prayers
there would be none
but the calls and pleas and prayers go on
and the fear of retribution creeps in
and now, alone in the second room
wondering, wondering if the noise in the front room
is the wind or someone jealous of a life

the hope is confounded by confusion
confusion is generated by truth/not truth
truth/not truth is co-opted by lies/not lies
and the foundations crumble, unable to bear the weight of unknowing.

the possibilities are few, but endless,
truth obscured by doubt
and doubt our daily bread
the cup of wine, our nightly draught of chaos

moving slowly with determination,
ignoring the hints of knowing/not-knowing,
the nightmare is erased
from the mind,
from the room,
possibilities arise from the cauldron of hope and not-knowing
and I sleep.