Palus

At night
When others dream
I walk
Through you

Scenes of desolation
Desecration
Are but entrée’s

Deep within
Lies that miasma of depravity
That which terrifies the world

Not you though
For you do not dream
Not that you recall much at least

Your terror
Your clutched straw
Is the knowledge of nightmares
Clear visions to you
For you hold the crux
Of their truth

So you bury dreams
Sleeping visions

Unconsciously
You cling to them
Absorbing the intensity
Turning it into . . .

Well

You

A subtle
Pervasive terror
One that
Whilst comforting to you
Destroys worlds

When you wake
I am here
The terror
The truth

This you

© 2006, Mosquitobyte