Cleanse me from
the dust of
the night, and
the apocalyptic
visions of my
slumber.
Fish guts, porn, or
insomnia may have
conjured these rotting
skin nightmares,
these mosquitoes from
hell.
I struggled to wake up,
but couldn\'t, and finally,
while I was flying in
a gray land of desolation,
and killers,
of nighthawks and harpies.
I soared through a
hazy wasteland, and arrived
safely back home
in my serene, August Sabbath.