Fuck Your Gold Medal

The day starts at 3 am when I wake up crying
I only speak in dreams &
I only dream in nightmares I only speak in tongues
Of fire and smoke and mirrors
At 3 I come to in a black hole crying
The black hole catches fire
With seventeen thousand lightly bleeding stars
And they are all shooting themselves

I wake up at 7 something, my fingers and palms aching
In the dream I was clutching a telephone, with the bones in my hand I was
Screaming. Screaming I wake up sweating
But silent, hand still with a death
Grip on something that is no longer there
The dreams are getting better
But the metaphors are getting exhausting,
Crushing I wake up at 7 something
Not wanting to be touched
That's the worst part

I dream that I am crawling,
And chained, thick iron
Chains around my bony throat
I wake up my skin is crawling
I used to dream of my vocal cords
Being ripped out from somewhere deep inside me
Not in a violent and black way,
In a way that was like a magician,
Slowly pulling out colored scarves,
Out of my body I could not stop him
It was bright and unending
And this black magic devil, pale and freckled
Was laughing in my face
Dirty fingernails scraping inside me
I am forever choking on my lack of voice
My vocal cords being torn out of
My always open mouth