No rest for the wicked

no rest for the wicked

No Rest for the Wicked

The crackle and sputter of the fire
Devouring wood, paper and lies.

Morpheus is lost to me.

But in my wake i still find the nightmares.
The shadows prosper with shapeshifters.

These monsters and visions vex me no more or less,
Than the words that the flames spit out rather than ingest.