These dream states
slate me for the things
which are to come.
There is only one truth
far away from my current view;
I see all through crystalline goggles.
Please, don't let me fall
into this waking nightmare
and be captured into
the one place I know
again.
I have lifted my words and being
by rooting them in truth,
but I'm still missing something
somewhere.
Somewhere
I am still dreaming.

The writing challenge is to pick up the book nearest you, turn to page 68, and use sentence 11 in a poem.

Stephen King, The Drawing of the Three

You're not hearing voices that aren't there, the voice inside his head returned.



You're not hearing voices
that aren't there.
The voice in his head returned.
As it always did.
Tell me,
tell me what it is
you want to know.
He wrested with it
but submitted
as he always had.
I'll tell you everything,
how I surround you,
how I'm inside of you...
ARE YOU LISTENING?
He was, he was,
please let me go, please
let me
go
he pleaded
please
as he always did.
Don't you want to know?
These pieces inside you,
you know to what I'm referring,
don't you?
I see it all.
He did. He knew.
He always had.