Dreams gather
In my head
As in a shotgun
Full of lead.
They want to fill me
With bad thoughts,
Things to scare me:
Oughts and noughts.
Dreams, they wait
Behind a wall
To judge my gait
And cause my fall.
They want to catch me
Unawares.
They want to bring me
Ugly nightmares.
Dreams do come
Whether I like it
Or not–they come,
Knowing I can’t fight it.
So, here I lay
In the dark, afraid
That when I close
My eyes, and compose
Myself to the torture
Of dreams gone askance
Of Mother Nature,
Suddenly a lance
Will be driven deep
Into my heart.
Yes, that’s the part
I dread.
*(Written 2010-2011)
