Twenty-Seven Nightmares

Twenty-seven nightmares rolling through the caverns of my mind, dark and gruesome creatures crawling, aged faces deeply lined. When the waxing moon has settled, sunk into the southern swamp, thirteen demons manifesting, I can hear their black hooves stomp. Howling hounds of Hell are mating, devil dogs inflicting pain, sixteen banshees spinning, swirling, blood is falling like the rain. Broken brethren banned from Heaven, six and six and six are they, slyly shifting shapes to fool me, begging me to come and play. Heed the wizard's words of warning, look not into the evil eye, when the bell tolls one times three now, ask questions not, nor wonder why. Watch the ill wind toss the treetops, lashing limbs with lethal rage, feel the cold rain sharp as needles, pine cones nature's hand grenades. Cherry-red eyed Chupacabra, hissing hot breath on my nape, phantom footfalls far behind me, nineteen omens taking shape. Twenty-seven nightmares rolling, you wonder why I work at night? Sleep for some is much more mellow when the room is filled with light.