To be where they are

Night mares are horses that gallop in clandestine wind's hooves,

clattering echoes on the cobble stone roads of mind's bend.

Dreamers dreaming in the crevasses of illusions' seams,

where haunting deserts abound like cascading streams.

A sphere of confusion we try to understand,

marching armies of pain's twisting,

rising up from the sand.

Moon's light and stars are seen from afar.

I desperately reach out to touch them,

to be where they are.

All of the horrors of slumber's contrive,

chains me down in its torturous demise.

"Understand"  I say, soooo hard I try.

I run and I run.............and I run.

When all I have to do ...................is open my eyes.