A cloudy wool pulled over the edges, blurred vision but clear as water. The feeling unreal, but still all there The dark curls, twisted, like life, draping down on the frail frame.
Reach into the room Feeling for the switch Another new wound Tug in the last stitch And I'm living by the glass Full of sand no more Shadow on the wall Can I play again?
The shadows pass over just before you wake. They slide over your skin like a slithering, scaly snake. You can’t see the darkness, but you know its there. So at the ceiling you begin to stare.