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Wake from the dream Sitting alone in a hotel room at 3.01 am the only light comes from the tv flickering the only sound from dark streets hissing the music of my mind fading into the far off distance looking out of the window through silent rain overlooking a cemetery its locked gates barring entry and exit half empty beer bottle sinking in my weary hand dry corpses littering the floor I hear someone snoring in the room next door the only difference between the dead and the living being that the dead do not wake from the dream a soft glow hovers over the gravestones I decide to sit it out watch the clock tick by over and over fearing the sleep of death better not to dream at all even if only for tonight
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