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Grasping fingers are immersed

In the viscous substance of my sleep

And I’m feeling as if something

Strange and dreadful Is delving into my breast

My reaction is deferred

My sense of borders Is entirely lost

Wicked hand is separating me from me

I’m turning into a ghost

The force is dragging me through my bedroom

I’m recognizing the outlines of things

Hazy portraits upon the walls have no faces

Faces are erased

Grasp of the hand is getting stronger

It’s pulling me to the gloss of the windowpane

I’m looking back, I’m seeing myself

Sprawled on the bed with no signs of life

I don’t need the air anymore

That’s really weird

I can’t touch the things anymore

This sleep is deep

The square window Is black as night

The blackest hole

Anticipation of the other side

In anxious soul

Dark face of night

Blind eye of moon

Soul will become

One with the void

A keen sense of wind

Piercing the heart

Astral abyss

Has opened its arms