We watch our dreams
through closed eyes.
In darkened rooms,
under nightmare skies.
We listen to the sounds. Still.
echoing eerily filling
your mind’s eye with visions,
that come from nowhere,
then fade into the ether
just as fast.
Snippets, movies, ghosts.
Phantoms taking home
in your heads whilst you lay
at your lowest,
most defenceless.
Walls lying on the floor,
crumbled off when you
poured out of your clothes.
Now you lay vulnerable
to any ghouls that wish to play,
pray for the watchman,
or for them all to stay away.
We see these visions
in those sleepy hours.
When we are veiled in darkness
in the blanket of despair.
When the chill in the air
isn't the cold wind,
or snow falling on the streets,
but the invisible hand
tugging at your sheets.
Because sometimes these dreams,
are not dreams.
They don't only become visible
when our eyes are closed,
whilst we doze.
They are not dragged
in by sheep leaping,
Sometimes there are
beings creeping,
just out of your line of sigh.
To the right, no wait, the left,
it's behind you now.
That cold, cold breath...
Thanks for reading
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