A/N: Written for 88Keys for the NFA Help Haiti auction. She requested "free verse from Ziva, McGee, or Tony's perspective. Can be about anything. Something unusual, but not smutty." I chose McGee and his writing. Enjoy!
nightmare novel
i have these dreams, at night, sometimes,
my body held tight to the sheets
while my mind races to its own end:
i am sitting at my writing desk, fingers
resting on the typewriter's keys, when
words begin the jump from the paper
folded, rolled under the slapping type bars.
they form quick lines, organize themselves
to torture me with their crossed t's, dotted
i's and j's, every tail on every capital q.
any weapon they can find within
their arsenal of wit, they hurl into my face,
peppering my cheeks with contempt.
my beautiful novels, every line of poetry
i'd written over the years, all unraveling
into disjointed phrases, now lying dead
on the floor, their own self-sacrifice
to keep from being used by me.
it's then i wake up, ripping myself
from the static of my subconscious,
and i rush out to my friend, the monster
from my dreams, sitting atop my desk,
a false picture of innocence.
i yank the sheaf from the machine,
staring at what i'd typed the night
before, and then . . .
i tear the paper in half.
and again. and again,
until there are just bits of words,
spots of ink on white, littering the floor
like confetti, or rice after a wedding.
but this is no celebration.
i sit down in my desk chair,
hold my head in my hands
and cry.