Sleep Paralysis

Shit.
It’s on me again.
I can always feel It before I see It,
Pressing down on my heart
And lungs.

My eyelids roll back
And there It is
The figure on my chest
Sat, arms holding bent legs,
As to place all Its weight
On me.

My hands and feet are numb
Nailed to the bed like Jesus
But not even he can reach me in this moment.

Its eyes open
Glowing white
Holding my gaze like a horrible
Accident.

Paralyzed
My face the only part of me alive
I pray the “Our Father”
But Its cold hand seizes my mouth
It then continues my prayer aloud
In my voice
Mocking my meager attempt
At salvation.

It knows It has me
And It knows to stretch time to keep me here
For hours,
Even days if It chooses.

When I try to scream
It takes my air
And no sound passes my lips.
When I attempt escape
It elongates my sentence.
Keeping me in paralysis.

It will show me things.

Turn left
And my mother is hanging from my ceiling
Turn right
And my father holds my brother’s mangled body
And smiles.

And all the time
It will look at me
It’s eyes feasting
Savoring
The suffering
It inflicts.

They tell me it’s common.
That I’m not alone in this.
Here and now I realize
They’re right.

At this moment
In the seclusion of my room
I feel anything but alone.