Saturday, October 30, 2010

The Waking Hour

The night becomes me and betaken my soul
whispers of ramblings inside my past overcome my sleeping mind
She counts to me one, two, three and then I awake lost and cold
Does she really see me or am I still dreaming this endless nightmare.

I sit up drenched in the cold wet sweat upon my foot board a raven 
The raven calls to me, what does that mean
Then the clock begins to grow  louder and silences the raven calls
Tik tok Tik Tok
Then its over the morning has come, the rising sun saves me yet again for another day
The nightmare is over at least for now.

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