Nightmare on the Cranial Street

the light hum of the candle burning orange spills onto the index of my brain

in flashes of lightning and deep blue fire that flickers as it puts out the rain

a needle pierces my ear, in as it's out.

a woman screams as she falls to her death

you'd think I know when blood is blood and when blood is just fear-dyed red

I know more than to look at a tree swaying in the wind and label it possessed

clutching a book in my shaking hands, the building's spine dissolves under distress

a part of me knows no part of this is real, why am I unarmed

at the crossroads of flammability, a resident heartbeat surrenders to warmth

nightmares unfold what parts of reality are haphazardly tucked away so just as the sky inhales. inwards I scramble,


the construction of this apartment on the cranial street has never seen the scarred face of regulation

a woman has fallen to her death in front of me in an attempt to seek salvation


Ummama Imran is an in-house writer at Perspective.

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