Disappear phantom sleep--
slurring your fangs
toward the real,
slip beyond all fear--
be gone while you swirl
in my thoughts of steel.
My eager wheels burn
their fuel, but still
they plume like smoke
and all you do is slip
around me magically, poof
around hope, a rope.
The images burn in doorways
haunting prayers like doom.
I laugh in spite of blood
even though you fill the room.
Angels wings be on me,
white light burn my way
and my hands grow together
without the urge to pray.
I understand my fingers;
they call out like sun
pointing their golden daggers
to a day yet begun.
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