You’re lying in a hospital bed,

Catheters, drips and drugs

Into the intravenous.


A dusty grey sets on your face

Like chalky ashen fallout.

Blood lined lips and

A desert rattle rasps out.

You’re on the edge

But the emotions don’t match.


That’s because they come at night and take you away,

Little spectre men

With mismatched odd sized eyes

And a lopsided grin

Happy stitched voodoo dolls

With their own backlight.


You go willingly with them,

God knows you have to.

You scuttle over realms

which I can only write about.

Fall amidst angels and shooting stars,

Onto the soft snows of Everest,

Then warm your soul

In the south pacific.


They bring you back,

And how,

Before you wake,

Bewitch you to forget,

But that’s alright,

The emotion stays.