Sleeping hell!

It was hell on earth,

I would’nt wish for anyone to have to face.

What begot me,

Why I was in such a state,

I could not possibly tell.

I staggered and at times I crawled

Looking for a place

Where the gripping urge I was under

Could possibly be addressed.

Then I came across a costermonger

For a cost to trade things, he was very much eager.

I pointed my figure

In a direction of an item

I was desperately after.

Being a street wise peddler,

Used to odd customers,

He appeared not bothered by my outré manners.

He moved back, picked up a bunch of apples

And dropped them on the table.

In disagreement, I shock my head,

And continued to point at an item

He had missed to pick and deliver.

For the second time long

The man got his picking wrong.

Knowing I had little time to live

If the urge I was gripped with was not relieved,

For a break, went round the counter to the shelf,

to pick the object myself.

However, getting hold of the thing,

As I was about to make good use,

Clearly in rage, the man seemed to have had run of fuse.

He snatched the object,

And in the scuffled ensued,

Smithereens it went upon hitting the ground.

He then picked up a twiggy broom,

And trashed my skull,

Until it sounded boom, boom.

I offered no resistance,

Held my hands high,

And began to walking away,

But the man beat me hard

Even when I went under a chart

Until the twigs fall apart,

Some of which remained stuck on to my head.

While this was happening from the back,

On the front I had another,

Feel no comfort,

I had another adversary to confront.

Every time I opened my mouth,

Trying to breathe in,

Umpteen chamfer splinters,

The size of a pin began to fly in,
And lodged themselves into root of the teeth.

As I tried to remove some,

The ferocity and number

Of fresh invader became awesome,

Until I felt death at any moment could come.

No longer able to cope,

I turned my palm to a stoup,

My Liquid waste to cup,

And down through the cracking throat

I gulped it deep.

The man wielding a bludgeon,

Now the twigs from the broom were gone,

Shouted, "pervert,"

Hoping others may join hands

To perpetrate violence against my person

As a preordained punishment with good reasons.

The liquid waste,

Had given me respite

By keeping at bay the thirst.

And this time first,

I was able to speak.

"Don’t you have a brain to think?

I staggered to you shop

Dying for lack of drinks.

Instead of extending you hand,

You came out like a hungry hound,

To track me down."

Doubtful of his manner,

But not prepared to admit that he had erred,

"Fuck off, you wretched scum,

I don’t want to see you around her,"

As he roared wielding the bludgeon,

On my head to land it on,

Outraged by his nonchalant conduct,

I summon all the courage I could get,

First I splashed the liquid waste,

Followed, to rub it in, by a slap in the face.

As if stung by an army of wasps,

The man screamed, rolled and began to gasp,

And shortly after he began to melt like wax.

As it started to spread,

Like margarine on a bread,

Dust and his remains mixed,

It reached my feet,

And to the ground it held me fixed.

"Release me from this world of yours,

I have nothing to do with it,"

I cried but there was nobody to listen.

Doused in sweat I woke up from the nightmare.

Copyright Haileselassie Girmay

19/10/2001