Melatonin: A Poem



I see nothing through the blackness
and then voices filter through crimson mists

blue lights turn on one by one

I am in a cabin and my Grandfather is chasing a bear out the door

He does this repeatedly, no one can see him except for me

The others keep letting the beast back in and suddenly

It’s snowing and I am outside
I can see the green of the shutters,
the treeline I swear I was familiar with at one time

There is groaning and gurgling
There are blood blisters forming on my icy wrists

The bear is pouncing on me, mauling me

Snow is silent
Like my screaming


Later I am piecing together
cut scenes

Strangers ask me the most difficult questions

I see myself on every surface
I panic because I don’t think
I’m supposed to be

seeing myself,
here, like this

The brick wall is lined with other sleepwalkers
We are at a train station
I have no idea where we’re going

They are not mirrors

They’ve only stared into them for too long

like I did

when I had to prove to myself that I was real


psychedelia is not too fun when you are unprepared to wake back up


This is my old street

I can tell by how the pavement feels beneath me

Carnations cloud and clutter my vision

I am still picking petals from my eyes

I think it has been four days since I slept and I am not afraid

I have been to worse places

The bear waits for me on the corner,

I keep walking

it’s growing

further and further away


Vivid mimicry

a flashback

a bad dream

a demented memory


My Grandfather has been dead for years

He could not protect me

The bear is in a world I won’t enter by my own free will anymore

it still has parts of me

I see fog

I smell sunlight

I think I have awakened now

I think I might be awake now

I think I can get some sleep now

April 4, 2018

Published by Jennifer Patino


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