the dead
decided to
parade about
in my subconscious
muddy footprints
on the carpet
leading from
six foot
escape tunnels
to circle around
in a ritual
to keep me
tossing about
the empty bed
where dreams
are one level
lower than
sleep allows me
to settle
letting my fingers
trail in the
stardust stream
of faded dreamembers
unable to dive fully
into the flow
paralyzed by
the milky white
eyes of the dead
whispering all of
the ways i
failed them