The Birds Are Here
When the eyes close, the familiar fades into unfamiliar. Dreams ever so lightly nudge at the precipice of horrors unknown. I’ll walk you through them.
In your sleep, just last night, with some turns to the right, I knew you had woken with fear. Heart beating with sweats clinging on to those debts with rolls of sheets, oh so sheer. There was but a scrawl in vestiges of a squall, just whispers that reach your ear. But the wind was in dark in full mast through your stark as it opened the gates of drear. T'was a mare, not a knight spreading out like a blight on ice that is thin and austere. But hold that thought, for your eyes, oh they've fought bandits old that were never near. The moon hangs un-bold, shining sweat now un-cold, conscious skewered by a spear the wet film now breaks, resurface through your lakes, I’ll pull on your hands, now clear. With your dreams, all now gone, comes a ray of new dawn, and your past is still silent, just hear. Only listen with your eyes, don't you speak, or they'd fly Shhhh . . . the birds are here.
