Ruined Slumber, Daily 29
The everyday sleeper remembers not
Shallow dreams sold and bought
But subliminal stress the dreamer’s fraught
Horrid ghosts that all forgot.
The door is open but you are locked
In a dusty cabin where shelves are stocked
With unused provisions unusually docked
Behind the can goods walls are pocked.
Often find my fantast journey here
In run down houses abused and seared
With falling floorboards and multiple tiers
Decaying dwelling hounding my fears.