Poem: Dreamon Hunger

The same nightmare again:
sleeping in a demonic Frat-house,
half there/half awake.
I choose there
and wake up in poverty
to be teased, insulted, implications
that I don't give enough.
I go into the next room
where the fattest, loudest,
Mocker
makes fun of me.
I gather the courage to talk back to him,
saying that _he_ is obnoxious, etc.
He nods enthusiastically, seeming to enjoy this.
I'm grabbed from behind by a younger (brother?)
version of the mocker.
His restraining arms are thick
with long, chipped, red fingernails-
like my mother's.
I ask Mocker #1 why he restrains me
and #1 says in a gravelly inhuman voice,
"I think he likes your ears."
and laughter.
I cannot get free, but I remember
this is not my room,
I live alone,
and force myself to wake up.

What were they?
Ghosts of my room?
Demons of my own making?
My right arm is going numb now.
But I don't like repetitive dreams;
especially bad ones.