I lie awake tonight
Slowly slipping into a subconscious state of mind,
Everything, it seems, is left behind
The passage of possibility is opened to me.
Gripped by the hand of existentialism,
I am pulled from reality into creations,
My mind is whirred, a fixation,
On the mysteries that lie ahead of me.
Thrown into a dark glade,
I am running so fast,
Escaping from my possible past,
This reality will surely be confused with normality.
Suddenly I am faced with my fears,
The colour of a corpse, the glint of a fang, a stench so bloody,
My head spinning, my shoes so muddy,
I can only assume they want the kiss of death.
Short of breath, they edge ever so closer,
As the hand removes me from my fabricated reality,
In the bed I once lied in hours before, vitality
Restored, but was it a dream? Or some strange sort of normality?