The Placidity That Was Once My Soul

There is a carnival in my head,
Nightly:
A nauseating carousel of nonsensical images,
Disjointed stories,
And freak shows by candlelight,
Performed by familiar but distorted faces,
Disturbing the placidity of my soul.

I wake exhausted
As if I've been battling demons,
In drunken fights all night ---
All the images,
Stories,
Faces,
Still haunting,
Fading fast as I fully waken,
By noon all forgotten.

The day unfolds like gauze bandages;
My soul exposed,
I feel cold,
Pining for the the placidity that was once my soul.