Alone And Awake
The world is dead and buried in tenebrous rooms with no warmth of light. Just the terror of darkness to cradle us in our beds. Only the lullabies we mouth silently are here to clear our heads. A distant locomotive cries, a lonely lover sighs, and some of us too scared to close our eyes draw fantasies of fire. The impure blinding whiteness in the shadowy corners of our minds can guide us safely through our dreams. If there are any to be dreamt. Each passing hour is one less step we walk. The stones on the path to alternate realities are too well-worn. We may not pass. Alone and awake is too much torture to take.