Laying upon my pillow, surreal, of a haunted might's sight.

I am different, there, in my dreams,
Around me, a different scene.
A snake - in my bed sheets, a scorpion, upon my hair.
I fluff my pillows, I subtly rest my head.
And controlled, rational me,
He can no longer be, in this, a haunted scene. Upon the pillow, the head, a different me.
One who cannot help but see - sources of disquiet. Silent, though, the night may, or might, seem.

A hero. A monster, a black jaguar, I prowl.
A mouse, a rabbit, unwitting, I flee. I live upon a die. That, I don't deny, to the pixies within my then unquiet mind.
I turn off my light, and into darkness, my soul does rest.
No longer in control, I fall upon the great reset.
And magic mathematics, are worked upon, there, in the currency of my nightmarish dreams.

But - you know that, do you still not, you star in them? Against my throat, your blade,
You, the venomous snake, the scorpion upon my hair.
A lady monster, whom I always somehow see. Anthromorphized animals: are prowling fearfully upon my mental street.
You, unwanted, yet haunting me.
The circus director, who controls my dreams.
The banshee, whose day-lit nights: I swiftly do flee.

And as I switch off my light, with it my mind.
I cannot control what it does - it will fall inevitably into unsightly art, into dream.
In the morning, I am oblivious, forgotten is the monster, of the never boring sheets.

And blessed daylight, washes away the things not to be seen.

The blade of unwanted fate, still points to you,
A compass, charged, magnetically.

And I live upon a die, that my rational mind cannot help but still deny.

And as I fall asleep, you, a monster never heard or seen.
A monster, raging wars upon my dreams.

And blessed daylight, washes away the things not to be seen.
And yet, somewhere, upon this unusual planet, you prowl not just within my nights.
Yet, upon some distant street, real, not in my mind's uncertain sights.
A real person, though mythical upon my unseeing sights.