The blankets are so warm.
They call to me as if they're...
alive.
My pillows whisper,
ever so softly
I must put my head down to hear.
Only then do I understand that
they murmur vows.
Vows of sweet visits from
my subconscious.
I know if I accept these vows,
the sweet visions
they will rot.
Turn sour.
The sugar coated candy will
leak blood.
Soft, loving characters will
come,
sanity depraved
with nothing but murder set in
their eyes.
My next bad illusion
can wait.
I tear myself awake.
Run to get ready.
I have to leave my home,
to resist the urge to
coast back to my room.
Where a fitful slumber
tempts me,
so.
