The Dream

Tops of toes patter on water.

You sleep as they do.

Finally, for rest has not come easy.

This brokenness causes deprivation.

And a moveable slip, swims just on your feet.

Clashing the cracks of wood on the scull.

Alarming.

You rush your feet from the edge,

inward.

And eyes, while still shut,

steadily sneak at the surface.

Thrashing water spits onto your face,

And the cold salt stinging at your bubbled burns.

While your eyes ease drop,

An orca paints red with matter of a great white,

on a canvas of blue.

Startled, you awake.

Your feet scared up high to your belly.

You had them sogging to the floor,

past the bed frame,

when your rest had begun.