Carapacic Nights (Insect Dreams)

Before you go to sleep this night take heed of this I pray,
for night’s the time when things come out that do not in the day.
From cracks in flaking plaster walls, and floorboards’ jagged fissures,
they issue forth each midnight hour in swirling ink black rivers.
Rivers that so soon become a sea that starts to spread;
a carapacic ocean that’s advancing on your bed.
And as the tide begins to rise you’ll hear the manic ticking,
a billion angry insect feet upon the plaster clicking. 
And when they reach your bed my friend the nightmare won’t stop there,
they’ll nibble at your toes and feet and tangle in your hair.
Your nostrils will be highways that they’ll wriggle in and out,
and in your desperate need to breathe you’ll open up your mouth.
But you know as well as I do what will happen when you do,
they’ll burst into that moist warm cave and that’s the end of you.

So let me give you my advice, intended to enlighten,
Before you go to sleep tonight you leave the feckin’ light on.