Perilous are the plunder dreams, those torn by twisted manifestation.  

Dipping toes into a opulent grand design, holding back tears caught hanging over the finest line.

Wicked straights drawn in the memories of this who once held up these walls, the walls we couldn't bear to look at now we can never live without.

How do you measure the strength of you inner stream, how can you chase a dream when you are sleeping.

Projecting wishful daydreams in the battle to fall asleep, hoping for no nightmares in the simplistic counting of sheep.

But there is something lurking in the gloom of pressing night, something beyond the shadows for a feeling not quite right.

Peering through the blackness convinced of matrixing designs, until that intense moment when caught by steely eyes.

Gone within an instant was the will to move an inch, to the further realization of losing the ability to flinch.

Sliding ever closer to the distance within visions reach, hearing whispering softly yet never was there speech.

Turning to a horrid feeling that something is terribly wrong, only to wake up to the sun light...and everything is gone.