I slept,

I lost my teeth last night,
They were taken by little hands,
Shadowy hands,
Teeming from every nook and cranny,
Of this shaded cell,
A host of impish incubi,

I stirred,

I can’t fight back,
Sleep paralysis,
The image of the hag holds me down,
My eyes simply spectate,
This sinister comedy,
The hands mock my seeming,

I woke,

I need my teeth,
For without them,
How am I to entertain the guests?
The lords and ladies,
The drunkards and jezebels,
I’ll be a waking pariah,

I cried.

  1. PoeEternal says:

    So weird. I just wrote a poem yesterday called Torpor, which talks about inertia. Just waiting to post it… 😆

    • Osharlequin says:

      Oh wow, that’s a fascinating coincidence. Kindred souls my friend!
      I’d love to read it!

      The Oldschool Harlequin

      • PoeEternal says:

        I’ll post it soon. Just been taking breaks between poems that I post lately because I’ve been dropping poetry on the daily for nearly two years. Now I’m waiting in between poems but it’s coming! Same title too! Hive minds. 😊

      • Osharlequin says:

        It’s alright. You mustn’t rush art my friend. 🙂

        The Oldschool Harlequin

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