I sleep like so many others
All night
At times all day
Except for one small oddity
I dream of a rarebit fiend
I know not from where he comes
He's in my swollen brain I suppose
It's enough to wonder about my sanity
The scream of a rarebit fiend
My head sinks into another sunset
As I imagine what's in store for this night
Two eyes drift into their slumber
As I await the return of the fiend
Once again I stand within myself
Knowing not what is to come
I believe I now hold his number
I'm going to burn the rarebit fiend
I pick up this unlit torch
To aid me in my kill
I light and throw it towards the darkness
In a attempt to end the fiend
As I watch
The fire is slowly growing
I realize
I'm the one that's aflame
The horror of being so helpless
In the dream I'm the rarebit fiend
Faith Frank May 2013
4 comments:
I prefer to dream of rarebit recipes, served with wild rice and cheese sauce. When all else fails just roast them in the flame. Smiles . I did like your post.
Faith in the metaphor village demands attention, she's sound, for sure.
Im with you on that one Steve. Thanks for reading. I do love me some rarebit hares.
Oh, Louis you are a fork among a drawer full of spoons.
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