Nightmare on My Street by Todd

[Leanne]

As knives stretch from your fingertips,
the boiler’s hiss, the darkness drips,
but young men’s fears aren’t mine to take.
Could I please die before I wake?

I understand you didn’t need
young teens who only wish to breed.
I’d kill them too. I’ve lost that ache.
Could I please die before I wake?

Each day I sit in asphalt haze,
a brake light death of small delays.
Of this communion I partake.
Could I please die before I wake?

The miles form a metronome
of cell phone calls and shining chrome,
a slow decay with each mistake.
Could I please die before I wake?

From empty cube, to empty room,
the jasmine scent of stale perfume,
a window blackened now, opaque.
Could I please die before I wake?



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