My Dreams.
Finally my day has stopped
Head on pillow, pill popped
Floating into my favourite time.
Pull up the duvet, feel divine.
Now I just have to wait for it,
As I inevitably toss and turn for a bit.
That drifting feeling washes over,
I finally become one with the covers.
Will there be demons or monsters within?
Or visions of scantily clad women?
Sticks of rock with arms and legs?
Or a crippled unicorn that begs,
All that pass for new shoes?
As the stick of rock sings the blues.
There is one thing of which I'm sure.
The usual ritual I always endure.
As soon as my dreams becomes dirty,
I wake up and notice it's only 3.30!