In this dream, blood fills to sills.

It shifts and sprays across the scene;

Not by day nor moonlit beam.

It sifts its way through your thoughts:

Where reality consists of twists and knots.

It stains your clothes,

Your hair,

Your eyes.

On your face, it drips and dries.

Now,

Wipe away some feigned illusion;

Except that you are not like her.

Know that you feel deeper than any has before.

Here,

Knock down the door where The Black Dog resides.

Kick him down and paralyze

His mystic, masterful, manipulative design.