Out on the edges of his soul land,
where the desert meets ocean sunset,
where rose bushes grow on streams of manure,
where the moon turns everything to clean marble.
A land of peculiar people,
walking along on barren roadways.
Each a totem, a bizarre symbol,
placed on a vast spectrum of good and evil.
He sees,
the Queen of Snakes.
Black hair falls to her waist;
Her curls hide stars and condense moonlight.
He hears,
her beckon seductively.
The libido of his soul transcending the flesh,
he feels no temptation;
Not in this place.
He sees,
the sisters three,
with shotguns in their shopping trolleys.
Old and withered, hunchbacked, and grinning.
He hears,
loud guffaws and shrieks of rage,
madness tinkling in their endless cacophony.
Fear grips him but he cannot wake.
He sees,
a blond haired hero,
taller than him by a head.
Fair and dignified, magnificent and refined,
with a woman on each arm,
and even more in his bed.
He hears,
the ancient magic of glamour,
the women’s eyes glazed and half dead.
He sees,
a figure of Dread,
dressed in white robes and a masked face,
beckoning him to come closer, to give in.
He hears,
a raspy voice promising him greatness.
Whispers of adventure,
tales of glory;
All for him,
as long as he says yes.
He runs;
Fear makes his soul scream.
The landscape quakes,
the oceans turn to magma,
the roses burn,
the moon glows red.
He wakes,
back to safety,
back to clarity,
back to order.
The totems follow.
The hauntings begin.
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