Denial

I wake again, is sleep walking a sin?
Blood stains my hand, where have I walked the land?
Where do I stand,
With midnight plus ten?

I’m naked with a chill from this sickening thrill.
Stains of blood run down my arm,
that fills me with the instant alarm,
that again this night I could come to kill.

An axe lays still upon my sight,
dimly light by the evening light.
Covered in a sticky red,
with blood to which it must have been fed,
from the walk I had this dreary night.

Upon my left, a head thus rest,
with long hair sticking crimson.
Looking in her eyes puts the pain in my chest,
for the eyes reflect a still like prism.

I feel remorse from this distorted course
but again, and always, I’m beating the dead horse.
Again, I will rise,
to face my horrid lies,
to which I must feed with force.

I wake up to find, that this was all nothing of a kind.
No blood here, no blood there,
it was all a dream it would seem,
from the distorted workings of my mind.

I turn to the news of my choice,
to find my favorite familiar voice.....
"News for all the waiting nation,
another murder last night by decapitation".