Blue cheese and some buckwheat bread
coffee, cream and a book for
bed,
it's nightmare time.

I never know when darkness melts or where the line is drawn or when the morning breaks the light and when
if I was born or torn from some cheap paperback, some dime novella off the rack.

I wake up anyway and never knew no night from day or heard the factory whistle blow, did not go and never been across the other side where they tell me grass is greener, leaner, sweeter.

I teeter on some unknown edge, balance Wall street style on the window ledge, twenty seven stories high and if I jump I fall and ask me why I eat blue cheese and buckwheat bread, do I wish, I wish to be among the flying dead, the spirits crying in that in between across that other side where I am told it is so green.

Nightmares scare me,
they are life in chaos
racing across my inner eye and
I don't want to die when I'm asleep.