The Nightmare Factory

Chaos has awakened,

Disguised in pounding fears.

Shadows breathe a peculiar smell,

collecting frightening thoughts.

An enemy emerges

to forge a tale of terror.

What’s real remains within a mark;

a question mark, that is.

A dream becomes your vision

And Performs an absolute

What you see,

You shall believe,

Recurs in ‘ordinary.’

The storm that breeds its own debris,

tip toes its way afloat.

What remains?

Serenity?

Invisible,

to the eye.