Wake Me

And then there are the dreams when I become him.

The cold creeping sludge seeping up through my soles

Filling my legs and I rise flimsy high and hateful

Treading unearthly imprints into the faded mossy carpet

Up the curved stairs, one, two, three then creak

Watching hushed through the rails as the landing clock ticks

Earthy fingers on the shimmery wallpaper leave a stain

Grounding the oriental birds from their colourful flight

The crystals sparkle casting spidery lashes in the moonlight

And I turn the handle, step inside her familiar sleeping scent

The stuffed bears and rabbits, her protectors, her friends

Soft as feathers her breath tickles my face and I am the hunter

Wake me if you dare.