Killing

There are days

when I come up from

the halls of sleep

and the daylight world 

is less solid than the 

creation spun by

the dream self

I have good friends 

and they have been

killing people 

to protect me

and some of them can

talk in my head

of course none of this 

is real,

but I was there

and lying in the bed

in the dark 

where the cat gnaws me

it seems like waking could be 

the dream instead or also

the dream

today needed more coffee 

for me to manifest 

and I am trying to resist 

the temptation of 

delicious acrid darkness 

so I will stick with odd 

and ethereal

fortunately there is no one

to see my tousled hair

or the way my socks 

don’t match my dress

only the cat and you

will care how the dinner is made

or if my insubstantial hand 

keeps passing through the handle 

of the cook pot.