The hour approaches— That unruly moment I am deprived peaceful slumber, I am denied access to a utopia of my making, Subconsciously— Like ants drawn to sugar, Sorrow and its torment draws nigh to a black spot—me! They creep up my bed, up my legs and defile me ruthlessly, I scream—I am voiceless I run—I am motionless They desecrate my temple, Yea, they sully my Inner sanctum, I resist—at least, I try to, But what can a gazelle do in the midst of insatiable beasts? A sharp sting and I succumb to it's nectar, A nectar so calming, A nectar so divine, I am gone, and I am no more. Until she comes— Wearing the face of my best friend, Shining brighter than Sirius, With warmth I have never felt, She stretches forth her hand, Drawing me to herself, out of the embrace of Hel—the mother of the dark. In her, I find a reason, A reason to live, A reason to love, A reason to hope.