The Night Mare

Are they real
or need I wake
these things that make
me want to quake
A freckled child
a sylph, some scones
invade my mind
like sharpened stones
.

A dancing maiden,
dismembered thumb
all mixed together
where from they come?
Like a flat rootbeer
no longer fizzy
if I arouse will
I not be dizzy?
.

Some cows on ice
skates that gleam
all rabble 'round
within my dream
The suasion mounts
it does proceed
the laughing horse
begs me to heed
.

Haunted hours
spent in my bed
crazy thoughts
zip 'round my head
I toss and turn
why do they mock
I wish I'd hear
my alarm clock