what is there to cling, clinging to the woven threads in my nightmarish dreams, those dreams scattered into the rosebushes and gushing ponds they are set ablaze, and not even the scent can mask the terrifying gaze, and the pond ices over so that knuckles crackle where water stood before so I set down in a downward spiral, into a massive hole set under the ***** of my feet, I cling onto the fabrics of this nightmarish dream, hoping that its reality can unfold before, I say, before the ground gives away and I'm ****** into this bottomless pit Then with a shout I scramble, hair flying like double shiny and marvelous, flowing and luscious so that each glint from the fiery gaze sets wonder and my knees rattle like the most terrifying thunder yet into the inexplicable yonder, they propel me with their creaking joints, like gravel's laughter and with that laughter my feet find ground and with that laughter light erupts with a dash crackling and sizzling, beaming and booming across the oily black sky of my nightmarish dream yet here, this light was of a marvelous light like the gush of courage and a momentous dosage pushing and pulling of the sweetest melody in my own vast, vast night sky