The dreams I have when I’m ill
Are almost as sick as my body itself.
I toss and turn
As all of the happy thoughts I have mold themselves into something horrifying

The people that I think of
Their eyes melt out of their skulls
They grow hair and their faces are deformed
They smile at me, a most terrible smile
They laugh at me, and chant strange things

The bakery that I go into
Its colors fade into a grayish and terrible shade,
And ghosts surround the thorny, black weeds which are breaking through the walls.

I bring myself to waterskiing on glass-like water
And I drown
I can no longer breathe
The water infests my throat and ears and mouth,
And when I try to breathe all the more water is pushed down my throat.

If I open my eyes,
All I can imagine is a simple coat being the sillouhette of a person out to get me
The person standing outside my window,
Watching for signs of the circumstances to hide me from the light of day forever
The ghost which dwells in my closet,
Its very presence chilling me to the very marrow of my bones.

Thoughts and dreams such as these haunt me,
Scaring me away from sleep.
My dreamland becomes a place of desolate darkness
As my night goes to waste with my sweat soaking through the pillow with every. Agonizing. Thought.