I am the daydream.
A mind slip-up of the daytime hour.
Bring me deeper—I will teach you to write of Midsummer Nights.
Dust pouch, a shattered ruby
(for I know dreams are worth more than rubies),
A sigil mask of power.
I do not trip over trembling void.
My possibilities exist only within yours.
What memories have you for me today?
My crown can serve all men of good fortune.
Aren’t you feeling restless?

I am the slumber.
Perhaps a shard of glass in a sea of liquid sand—
Here to tune your six dull heartstrings.
Or maybe let you plummet deep to
Shake Lucifer’s hand;
He is really more the gentleman.
I pass over some—
Sleeping the sleep of the just.
This night has brought a gift:
Me in place of my sister,
(I do not hear her wings)
Breathe deeper if you must.

I am the nightmare.
A pale and polished grin,
With teeth in eyes.
A childhood dental surgeon.
Forget his scalpel, my presence is sharp enough.
Mind-fangs to chew your every thought,
The hollow sweating, lit visible by my
Black-nether eyes, burning thin.
Don’t you wonder why you’re here?
You are haunted;
Slave to a thousand cats.
You have passed the realm of fright.
The beat of feathers I hear at your door,
And now my sister is calling.
Even Death takes pity on those in
Eternal waking.

-B.W. Gladney


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