Thoughts on Writing and Nightmares

I am finding, yet again, that sleep has become my elusive mistress. She incessantly teases me, only to dance away before I can grab a firm hold on her. When I do sleep, I am plagued by dreams, some are pleasant…but, most I would rather not have to face at all. The pleasant ones are obviously the most enjoyable, almost always sexual in nature and intense. The kind of dream that makes one wake up, aroused, hard and raring to go. It’s the nightmares though that I would rather not have to face at all.

The day following the nightmares, I am difficult to be around and have a hard time functioning. Every little sound can be a trigger for me, and heaven forbid if there is a loud bang from a car door, or something falling. I’m more irritable to those that I care most about, because I am tired of putting on a good face for everyone else. I’m not mean, just easily aggravated, my emotions are just that much more intensified.

For a long-time I was successful in managing the recurrence of nightmares. I did so by writing mostly erotic stories and poetry. If my mind were on something pleasant like that, then I went to sleep thinking about the next part of the story and could sometimes suppress the nightmares with my rampant imagination. But, then, I battle the internal moral issues with writing that type of material and have an entirely different battle to face.

So, now I am back to square one again. My writing is always intense in one aspect or another. I am either writing something totally erotic in nature, something totally dark in nature, or writing something darkly erotic. But, every so often, I have a glimpse into something else. I just need to find that happy balance, maybe then I can once more suppress the nightmares.

We shall see.

~~

AC Elliott

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Essence #3

Like a thief
that slips into the shadows
never to be seen again-
so, does sleep elude me.

~~
AC Elliott

Essence #2

Let me drink
from the cup
of your words,
and imbibe your
essence.

When the warmth
spreads through me
perhaps, then,
I will find
the cipher
to unravel
my tied tongue.

Let me drink
from the cup
of your words,
and hopefully,
find my own.

© The Cracked Lens, 2016

Written using Free Verse poetry form

Essence #1

Gone, gone, gone
are the words of my youth
dissipating on the wind
like an early morning mist.

~~
AC Elliott

Thoughts On Writing

As I mentioned in a couple of previous posts, I am not doing much writing these days. Ok, scratch that, let’s be honest here…I’m not doing any writing these days. I hope that the urge to write new material will come along sometime soon, but until then, I only have my older pieces. Since that is the case, I thought I would start reposting some the earlier pieces I was compiling called “Essence”. My “Essence” series is comprised of a mix of poetry forms, all short, mostly Naani and free verse. However, it is a series that I enjoyed writing. That being said, for now, I am going to start posting those once a day and hope the rest comes back to me…sooner rather than later.

~~
AC Elliott

Cleansed by the River

With brow furrowed and eyes clenched tight, he fights the scenes in his head, scenes of things he wished he’d forget. His worries, they cloud him left and right, thoughts of what he shouldn’t have said, words uttered that he’d live to regret. So, he drinks until it blurs his sight, and his feet wobble in their tread, getting as drunk as drunk can get. He wonders if he’ll last the night, or, if he’ll wind up alone and dead, with no coin to pay the reaper’s debt. But, when the time comes and payment’s due, he hopes he’ll be wasted, through and through.

~~
Staggered footsteps trudge
Through the trench of mire and muck-
Made clean by the Styx
~~~~

©AC Elliott, The Cracked Lens View, 2016

Written as a Haibun

The View Through a Cracked Lens (An Older Piece)

Viewing my life through a cracked lens
All of the who’s, why’s, where’s and when’s
Distorted in my view
As raw screaming ensues
Flowing through pain filled pens
~
The cracked lens letting in the lies
Unfiltered, flows into my eyes
See where it all begins
Dark, ugly origins
Hidden sin’s haunted cries
~
A cadence beating in my head
Words fighting, wanting to be read
March quickly through my brain
Playing their notes of pain
A campaign of words unsaid
~
Throat painfully raw and voice hoarse
As the words settle on their course
The picks set in my throat
Words wend way, note by note
Promoting will by force
~
“Let me out, let me out!” they say
They will see the light, come what may
Once they’re freed from their pen
Burst into the open
Then my pen, has its way
~~
AC Elliott