Nightmare Behind the Bay Laurel

bay laurel branches loom over head, my arms aching with grocery bags carried eight full blocks, while emaciated filthy blond ponytail in pants that slide down his thighs follows me right to my own back door, can’t remember code, punching in all wrong numbers, over and over and over, and he is closer, closer, closer, I smell his meth, his mess, his aggressive stalk, one long blade held tight to his chest and it is my knife, from my own kitchen, I know that knife, bones my chickens, cars race by on the other side of the tall protective laurel bush that I pluck my bay leaves to use in my soups and stews, no one sees, no one knows what happens on this side of the bay laurel, and his stink is on me and I open my mouth to nothing coming out and punch numbers, punch numbers, arms weak with heavy bags hanging from crooks in elbows, sagging, dropping, eggs, orange juice, soft red grapes, push little buttons harder, not working, fingernails breaking,  mouth, throat, lungs not working, wake up, wake up, wake up from this nightmare...........haunts me. haunts me, time and time again…….

thanks for reading.......
(prose challenge - nightmare)