Twisted sheets

littered from my mind.

Demons pour from my ears

and dance upon my dreams

as I squirm deeper into them.

In my bed,

thrashing in a linen sea.

Or fevered maybe.

Sweat across my face

mixing with latent tears

upon a damp pillow.

Heaven and hell

hold no fear for me

when the preacher caws and calls

from his electric pulpit.

I walk Dante's valleys

without shoes in my dreams,

claim victory each time

I wake to see the sun.