NIGHT TERRORS
She feels her way through a darkling cave
and wades through slimy, grimy bog
and icky, sticky spider webs.
The hurry scurry of fangs and claws
the foulish howl of rabid beasts!
A bony finger reaches out.
She screeches out and swiftly turns
to strike and bite,
and … then …. awakens.
Fingers nailed, barbed wire wrapped, pustule’s volumes— I know more lies below the bedlam’s 🛌 flesh fleece where hundreds more words lay in the dark to make your nightmare ride . Grab the reins.
I hear warm milk before bed fixes that.