"Nightmare Syndrome"

“Last night there was a murder at 190 Sunset Avenue at Westville, Ohio. The victim was a young petite woman who happened to have been kidnapped and brutally beaten by a man. All of this occurred in the home of Matthew Prometheous, a worker at a labor factory out West. The prime suspect, Mr. Prometheus, denies the charge of hurting this innocent young woman. But the dead smell of cut up limbs in a closed sack tells the public otherwise.”

“At this point you must ask why he did it. 

Maybe they grew up with ill mannered morals. 

Perhaps they lived as men who went insane one day that they snapped.

But no matter what the answer is, the guilt will never get off of his back.”

“No matter what, I know what you did Prometheus. And you can’t escape your sins.”

Listen to the crawdads sing, 

Whispers to the black crow 

As it swoops down 

To set its sights on decaying prey. 

Over time we all wish for the past to go. 

But sometimes the only thing

That’ll flow is the cold blood 

Inside our bones. 

Been scarred and scared. 

Nothing left to want

But a dream, 

Anything to let us free. 

Bring an exodus, 

Let my people 

Go free from 

This nightmare syndrome. 

We’ve all fallen asleep and we can’t wake up. 

Thought that a thousand suns 

Would wake us up 

But the poor still are 

Unable to get up, we’re so tired and lame.

Pondering never got me anywhere these days. 

Only can dream of the same mistakes. 

The static garbage noise 

Is a melody that haunts the soundtrack of my sleep. 

Couldn’t say that it wasn’t my fault. 

Guess I’m still subconsciously 

Thinking that I’m the problem. 

So many people talking to me 

Like I don't have any worth. 

Do they even respect me? 

Because this is kinda torturing. 

This post traumatic stress 

Doesn’t fade like a snap of your fingers. 

Trust me, I’ve tried to dream it away. 

But dreamland ain’t it’s all cut out to be. 

No not when it’s only contributing to your fears. 

No, not when it only makes things worse. 

These days it seems like I’m 

Only good enough for people to make demands of me. 

Reading books about tragedies 

Won’t help what’s been broken in me.

This stress builds up and up,

Chokes me like chains that strangle one to Hell. 

And I can’t keep pretending that this is the type of story I wanna tell. 

Think I wanna plant a garden? 

Because right now the only 

Thing I know to water with is poison. 

I’ve been sleepwalking through this labyrinth I want out from.

Give me an exodus, 

I want my people to be freed 

From the captivity of 

This nightmare. 

Lost any resemblance of a desire 

Because I keep waking up 

Not wanting to be myself. 

Monsters on the walls 

Send their hands at the innocent children. 

They scream and shout,

Tears are the only thing that comes out though. 

It’s hard to breathe.

Hard to really want anything. 

Is that so difficult to understand? 

The nightmare syndrome has just gotten to me. 

Every night it goes like this… 

I wake up and see static on the television, 

With the text saying:

“You finally came back here”. 

See the blonde babe staring back,

The children were all wearing masks. 

Mist starts scratching in the throat, 

Water mystifies into poison.

Bring me a resurrection 

Because there’s been too many mistakes 

I’ve had in this life. 

This nightmare syndrome 

Reminds us all of our sins, 

Those that we can’t escape from. 

And I’m trying to wake up from this. 

Awakening only turns into despair.

I keep trying to awaken. 

Yet, I’m only grasping un-reality.

These nightmares are more real than hoping could ever be. 

Fading out and losing sight of 

What should be mine. 

Letting myself be consumed 

By the anxiety. 

Like a romantic horror story,

We’re planning lovesick till the end. 

Nothing ever works out 

In reality. 

Does it mean anything to you? 

Because it does to me! 

No, there’s nothing wrong with me. 

The mist is in the sights. 

Unable to stop going blind.

Why the words of a preacher can’t help no more? 

I’m sick and I need the cure, not an ad for it.

Bring me a dyaspora, 

We’re all abandoning each other. 

Leave me into the nightmare, 

Where the sins of my past crawl at my neck.

Think of the black crows, 

Singing the last lullaby.

I enter into deep think, 

Hoping there’s a future in front of me. 

But there’s just a red mist. 

One that takes over and 

Bring my nightmares to life. 

Thought that people would give me 

Credit for trying. 

But in my dreams I’m only dying. 

Dying from the guilt, dying from the inability to do anything.

Come take a look into my mind

 Promise it ain't a psychotic 

Break all the time. 

The voices can't keep their mouths shut,

 Especially when it comes 

To make any of my work into pointless rust.

 Wish I had the courage to say that it hurts... Yet I'm terrified that my words 

Have no say anymore here. 

They say they wanna drift to sleep, 

Maybe escape from reality 

But that's when the pain settles in the veins, it's when the sorrow no longer becomes fiction.

There’s no hour of joy, 

Only the feeling like I’m getting played like a toy.

Falling asleep into the red mist again, 

Bring me an exodus to free my people from our sins.

I can’t keep saying that it’s all my fault.

This nightmare syndrome reminds of my mistakes, 

Can’t keep trying to escape reality

When my dreams keep them in my face.

Nothing left to save, no not here.

A cat walks across a smokey foggy bridge. 

It fills itself up and eats up what 

Little hope we’ve got. 

My little cat how big you’ve got, 

Consuming on the rotten flesh 

Of your sleeping prey. 

Can’t keep waking up regretting everything. 

The guilt only spirals, there’s no more control.

And I found out that in reality I can’t let go…

Wake me up. Wake me up from this nightmare.

I have no home. I have no place.

Wake me up. Hate it here.

Wake me up. They left me all alone.

In my room, I felt like I wanted to die.

Even in my own dreams, I was frightened and with nowhere to hide. 

Now I’m not home. This place is not where I belong, I was never strong.

The nightmare syndrome is in my mind and I’ve fallen apart. 

Wished that somebody would come.

Someone set me free.

But these chains would never be released.

Wake me up. I wanna get out but the nightmare won’t stop taking the words from my mouth.

“The prime suspect, Matthew Prometheous was confirmed dead before the police could issue a death warrant. Rumors are circulating that it was suicide. Or perhaps someone went up and shot him dead for killing an innocent woman. Police cite that red mist was coming out of the suspect’s room, forensics are looking into it to see if it’s some kind of drug. An officer who went to the murder site had said that he experienced nightmares the night after being off duty. ”

“My best guess? Prometheus died in his sleep. It’s funny, he died because of a nightmare. But now he’ll experience the realist Hell he’s ever seen. So don’t keep the devil waiting, old friend”.