Dream a little dream; of E.A. Poe. A bit about drinking, a bit about drugs, a bit about saddness, a bit about love.

Dream a Little Dream I succumb to the pains, to the vice that holds us all in its grip. Sleep; the universal addiction. A release from the burden of thinking my own thoughts, and the purgatory of other people. Eyes shut, with now awareness of breath or pulse. Every night we prepare for death in this way, But with all escapes from that which plages us, This one comes with a price. Horrible visions. A …

…away before being ripped back into the waking world? The walls of his empty bedroom would bulge and ripple. They would appear soft to the touch. Perhaps if he where to press to hard, His hand would push strait through to the inside. The barrier ripping away like flesh. Bilious bone and bowel spill out as he spins inward. Sinking and swimming through the cold, rotting stew. Downing in blood as think as India ink.