Descent to Madness

Nightmare and whim

Bubbles of whimsy drifted around like fantasy was just within reach but nightmares were only to be found Long laid down in slumber black butterflies began weaving my dreams at nightmares seams. a quilt, no a tapestry of screams began to come to life a scene that was stitched into my mind every night. Bulimic ballerinas spinning their pirouettes china dolls picked off their porcelain. In these scenes i cannot escape in my dreams the views, the horrible news of alcoholics crawling down the street, licking the inside of every bottle they see. is it real? because that is how it feels. too constant to be a figment, yet just out of touch with reality. It is in the night i begin my plight, my descent into the realm of madness it is then I cast out the black eyed children, and rip the flesh from my skin. It is then that I awake screaming wishing, daring myself to fish out a dream A dream of fantasy and whim